Reflection in Steel
by Commissar Rasher
Summary: The UNSC Wotan is the finest ship ever built by human hands. But now its crew faces the greatest challenge of their lives. Trapped in a strange land, they must survive and try to find a way home in a dark galaxy where there is only war.
1. Into the Maw

Chapter 1 "Into the Maw"

Tunnel e216 had been dark for a long time. The ancient crags of the mine were without light or sound, long since had they been left barren of useful ore, meaning that these shafts had been abandoned years past, the power cut and all useful equipment removed in favor of more profitable sections. Nothing ever came through this tunnel, not even vermin for there was no food here to sustain them. For years unspoken it had laid desolate and abandoned, with only the slowly settling dust to change the appearance of the rough stone floor. But now the dust swirled as the slight wind of a passing form disturbed it for the first time in years. Something was moving through tunnel e216 for the first time since it had been closed down. Four figures were walking down the hall, moving with a cautious step. If you saw them from a great distance you might have mistaken them for men. They were shaped right, had arms and legs and heads in the right places, but upon a closer inspection they were far more than any mortal man.

Each of them was at least seven feet tall, their helmeted heads nearly scraping the roof of the tunnel in its lower points. They were clad in magnificent armor painted black as midnight that blended seamlessly into the dark tunnel. They must each have weighed a solid ton at least, but moved across the dusty floor with nary a sound to mark their passage. As silently as they came, they turned the corner and vanished down another passage, the dust slowly settling back down to the floor of the tunnel, as though the giants had never been there at all. Once again, the stillness was unbroken in tunnel e216

Gaius crept through the tunnel at the head of his team, his helmet's senses rendering the pitch black tunnel as clear as day to his eyes. His bolter was trained down the tunnel ahead of him to mitigate any threat that might have presented itself, but he was not terribly concerned at the prospect of attack here. He had reason to be confident any threats before them had been dealt with. Gaius was an Ultramarine, a son of Macragge, one of the greatest warriors mankind had to offer. He had served dutifully for a great many years, earning the rank of sergeant within his chapter. He had led his fellow Ultramarines into combat for years, until it was recommended to him that he join the ranks of the Deathwatch.

Deathwatch was an organization of Marines, called from the myriad chapters of the Adeptus Astartes, attached to the Ordo Xenos wing of the Holy Imperial Inquisition. Here, Marines like Gaius served as the military force backing up the Inquisitors as they rooted out the dangers posed by the alien wherever it could be found. When subtlety and guile failed the Inquisitors of the Ordo Xenos, they would sometimes call upon the Marines of the Deathwatch to help resolve their problem with a precise application of force. It was one such mission that brought Gaius and his team to this world today.

Melkor VI was by no measure anything other than average. It supported a reasonable population of some four billion Imperial Citizens, had access to moderately advanced technology, and paid its tithes on time. In the past seven hundred years there had been no major problems with the world, only the standard issues of petty bickering between the various power blocs on the surface, nothing that had ever warranted the attention of the wider Imperium. Until, that was, that Inquisitor Tyburn Graves of the Ordo Xenos received a worrying message from one of his agents on the planet. The locals in a deep mine shaft had discovered something, seemingly an artifact of xeno origin. Local attempts to retrieve the object had failed, the miners were armed and had resisted the proper authorities. With no other forces in the area to commit, Gaius and his team had been assigned to the mission. The Ultramarine's orders were to retrieve the device for examination. The lives of the miners were a secondary concern.

"So what are we expecting to find down here?" One of the Marines behind Gaius asked. It was Ulrich, a younger marine seconded to Deathwatch from the Space Wolves chapter. He was the team's close combat expert, eschewing the bolter in favor of a bolt pistol and a pair of power axes traditional to his chapter. As was common in the Marine's chapter, his power armor was adorned in furs and talismans made of bone and claw, giving him a savage appearance. Gaius had come to trust the young Astartes as a competent warrior, but he did have certain reservations about his tactical ability. So long as he kept the Wolf pointed at the right target, there shouldn't be any major problems.

"Our intelligence did seem a little vague," Came another voice, "Though it is likely we face nothing more serious than a number of normal men with little more than half broken rifles." That would be Xavier, the Salamander of the squad. Xavier was also the team's technical expert, being a Techmarine, one schooled in the art of maintaining advanced technology, and tutored by the great minds of Mars to understand the mystery of the machine. As with many of those in his order, Xavier had received technological augmentations, several mechanical limbs and robotic tentacles were folded neatly against his back. Gaius trusted him implicitly, the Salamander was trustworthy and open, though his sentimentality could sometimes present issues.

"Hah, if that's all I don't see why they even needed us here." Spoke the final member of the procession. Mendoza was a member of the Imperial Fists, a chapter known for its ability in building and tearing down fortifications. As a Devastator marine, Mendoza carried a massive heavy bolter, fed from a great ammo pack on his back. He supplied the team with suppressive and covering fire, providing the most long range firepower the team had to offer. He was stable and competent, though he had certain issues with trigger discipline Gaius had found, he was very fond of his big gun.

"Evidently because local forces were insufficient to deal with the situation." Xavier said in his deep, calm voice. "We would not have been sent if the situation was not dire enough merit our presence. An attack into the warrens of the enemy like this could cost many good men their lives, sending us means that the situation can be resolved without needless loss of life."

Gaius could hear Mendoza rolling his eyes. "I take your meaning brother, but this still seems excessive. Surely one Astartes would be fit enough for this rabble, it would give them a sporting chance if nothing else."

"I'm going to assume you're talking about me." Ulrich said. "I know I'm fully capable of taking this whole mine apart by myself. Oh, you meant yourself? My apologies brother, I misunderstood you."

Mendoza grunted over the vox. "If you think you could clear out this warren with those hatchets of yours, think again boy. Why don't you trade them in for a real man's weapon?" He hefted his massive bolter impressively.

Ulrich glanced over at Xavier. "How much do you want to bet he ends this mission screaming for us to come rescue him?"

"That only happened but once!" Mendoza protested. "And in my defense the hive tower was completely covered with Tyrranids, and I was out of ammunition."

Ulrich laughed, twirling one of his power axes. "Ammunition, how quaint."

"Be silent brothers, both of you." Gaius growled over the vox, "We're almost to the rendezvous point." The team dropped silent, falling back into their disciplined advance further into the tunnels.

Gaius checked his location against the map on his dataslate. It appeared that they were in the correct location, this was where they were supposed to meet up. The tunnel ahead of him was dark and empty, nothing stirred there. "Alright people, it seems we're early to our meeting. Sit tight and wait, he'll be along shortly." Gaius said, leveling his weapon down the corridor and peering into the darkness stretching ahead of his helmet's ability to illuminate for him.

"He's late? That's not like him." Mendoza said, aiming his heavy bolter to cover the tunnel behind the group.

"Indeed, it is not." Xavier agreed, hand resting idly on his own bolter.

Gaius turned to look at his team. "I'm sure he just took his time accomplishing his task, no sense in rushing these things. We haven't been discovered so time is not much of a factor at the moment, just sit tight and we'll move on when it's time." He turned back to look down the corridor. After a moment, Gaius felt a strange unease. He peered into the darkness of the tunnel, trying to figure out what his subconscious had latched onto that his mind had not. After a moment, he saw the tiny glint of a pair of eyes shining in the dark. Beneath his helmet, the Ultramarine let out a nervous breath. "Kartal, must you always do this?" The eyes moved slightly as the Raven Guard tilted his head in curiosity or amusement, Gaius couldn't say. "Report then, what did you see?"

Kartal stalked forward to the rest of the group. "I have scouted the perimeter set up by the miners. There are a number of guard posts set up to defend the central chamber of the mine, they have a settlement there. I was not able to see much before I had to abandon my position, but I believe that is where they are keeping the artifact."

Gaius nodded. "Very well, we shall move in to retrieve it now. Come brothers, let us move. From this point on we're moving into hostile territory, remain vigilant."

Ulrich drew his axes, admiring the edge. "As if I'm ever not."

True to the Raven's word, there was a guard post further up the tunnel. The corridor widened out into a larger chamber, some old mining gear laying unused along the walls. At the far side of the chamber a crude barricade had been constructed, a few men milling around behind it. As suspected they were poorly equipped, miner's protective gear in place of proper armor, old battered weapons held in inexperienced hands. It was hardly something that could be thought to offer serious resistance to a squad of Astartes. Gaius frowned behind his helmet, something seemed off about this while situation. "Hostiles before us, clear the post and move onto the main target, keep it quiet, no need to raise undue alarm." Gaius slung his rifle over his back, drawing his bolt pistol. He exchanged the magazine for subsonic bolts without the rocket motor, clipping a sound suppressor onto the weapon.

"Never let me have any fun." Mendoza complained, hefting his heavy gun.

"Cheer up, be plenty of cause to get loud later on if we're lucky." Ulrich said, readying his axes.

Gaius nodded to Kartal who slinked off, fading into the shadows. Gaius gave him a few seconds to get into a good position, then gave the signal. The Deathwatch team flowed out of the dark corridor, seeming to appear directly in front of the surprised defenders. One of them ran to the barricade, pulling out a heavy stubber, but before he could muscle the weapon into position Kartal seemed to leap from a shadow and crushed him under his armored weight. Gaius raised his pistol and put a bolt through one man raising his rifle. The bolts had a much lower velocity than normal shots, and did not explode, but against unarmored humans they couldn't be anything less than lethal. His pistol coughed twice more as another pair of miners was ripped clean through. Ulrich leaped high over the barricade, slashing down through one of the guards, twisting and turning through a group of guards as he took them apart at the seams. For Astartes, this was hardly anything more than target practice.

As quickly as it began, the skirmish was over. Of the guards defending their post nothing but torn corpses remained. Gaius stood over the bloody bodies, returning his pistol to his hip. Yes, something about this seemed worrying. "Kartal, did you see any evidence of the miners being able to offer more serious opposition than this?"

The Raven considered. "Not that I could see sir, they seem to have little in the way of heavy arms or armor, only small arms. Even then they don't seem to be very skilled in using them."

Gaius' frown deepened. He crouched next to one of the corpses, pushing it over with a gauntlet to examine the dead man. A brief search turned up nothing out of the ordinary. An old battered lasgun, some spare power packs, a few simple tools. Everything that one would expect to find on a rebel like this, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. That was what worried Gaius.

"What is on your mind?" Xavier asked, walking over.

"These miners were supposedly able to resist local force's attempts to breach these tunnels. They were so successful in repelling them that Inquisitor Graves thought the situation merited our involvement. And yet they put up such a paltry defense against us now? Tell me, would you think these miners would be able to fend off an attack from the local PDF?"

Xavier considered the dead men in the chamber. "It does seem unlikely they would be able to put up such stiff resistance to trained soldiers, based on what we just saw."

"Perhaps all their more skilled fighters were killed off in the earlier fighting?" Ulrich suggested, cleaning off his bloodied gauntlets. "And the locals were too afraid to venture in again in case they ran into stiff opposition as they did before?"

Gaius shook his head. "No, that does not explain the poor state of their equipment. Had they simply suffered losses they would have then retrieved the equipment from their fallen fellows. It seems to me that this is the best they are equipped with. I do not think we will find our answers in the cave, but it is something that worries me. Come now, let's move on. This guard post will not go unmissed for long." The team nodded and readied themselves again, moving swiftly down the yawning tunnel towards their objective.

There were no further guard posts along their path, it seems that in their foolishness the rebels had thought a single post would be enough. Then again, they had seen the last attack off relatively easily, so perhaps it was their confidence that drove them to it. Regardless, the path ahead was clear. The team emerged from the tunnel a little while later, stepping out onto a wide rock ledge overlooking a deep cavern. From the schematics Gaius had been given before departing for the mission, it would appear that this was the central cavern. It was a natural formation initially, widened by the mining operation until the vast gulf was left, large enough to house a decent sized settlement. Here the majority of the miners resided on a semi-permanent basis, erecting a town in the center of the cavern to use as a base for their mining operation. Now, it was the center of operations for their little rebellion. Gaius crept up to the lip of the ledge and looked down at the town below, set aglow with yellow artificial light. His helmet zoomed in, giving him a closer look. There were numerous armed miners walking about in the town below, not on alert but seemingly prepared for the chance of attack. Gaius continued to scan the town, his eyes finally settling on the town square in the center. There, behind a man seemingly sermonizing from a pulpit, rested what could only be the artifact they had been sent to retrieve.

It was a curious thing. It appeared to be a monolith, a tall column of grey metal gleaming in the dull light. It was comprised of flat smooth surfaces and sharp angles, and seemed to be giving off some kind of glow. Gaius had been serving in the Deathwatch for years, both his training and experience allowed him to identify numerous kinds of xenotech, but this strange object was unlike anything he had seen before. It was another unknown in a mission that was already filled with too many variables for the Ultramarines liking. He scanned the town again. "We are vastly outnumbered here, and our enemy is guarding that which they seem to value most highly. I am open to suggestions on how to avoid fighting the entire town in direct combat."

Xavier peered over the lip of the rock, examining the town. "Do you see those tall structures, there and there?"

Gaius looked where the Techmarine pointed. There were tall, vaguely cylindrical objects jutting up from the cavern floor, various mechanics bits moving and whirring. "Yes, what of them?"

"If I am not mistaken, those are geothermal power units. They harness the heat coming up through the rock to generate power for the settlement. They operate by heating water into steam, and relying on the…"

"Spare us the technobabble Xavier, how does it help us?" Ulrich cut in.

Xavier gave the Wolf a sideways glance before continuing. "They operate by converting water into steam, which they use to spin generator turbines. This steam is kept at high pressure. Very high pressure."

Ulrich tilted his head, his smile almost visible through his helmet. "Forgive me, your technobabble is entirely welcome."

Gaius nodded. "So, we breach these devices, and the explosion can serve as a distraction as we move on the target? That sounds like a solid plan. Kartal, I need you to plant explosives on those towers, we will detonate once we are in position to move on the objective." The Raven nodded, checking over his demolition charges. "In the meantime the rest of us can get into position, we shall wait on the edge of town until Kartal gives word that the distraction is ready." The Marines nodded, before slipping down the wall of the cavern to drop quietly to the floor. They moved over to the edge of the settlement, stealing as close as they dared, before Gaius signaled the Raven Guard to break off, the Marine rushing into the shadows of the alleys leading deeper into the settlement. After that, there was little to do but wait, periodically checking in over the vox to ensure that Kartal was still on course for his mission. Not surprisingly, the stealthy Marine encountered no serious problems along his route, and half an hour later he sent back word that he had completed his assignment, and was in position to assist with the attack on the town square.

"Let us move." Gaius said over the vox, moving out of his cover position and running into the town.

They stayed out of sight for as long as they could, moving through poorly watched alleys and darting across streets. But as they moved further and further into the town the population became thicker, guards were walking about more frequently. Soon it became impossible to pass without being seen. The next street had multiple guards on it, there was no way they could pass without being noticed. "Alright, Kartal stand ready on the detonator, it's about time to cause some havoc." Gaius voxed. The Raven returned a simple affirmative. Gaius brought up his bolter, sighting in from the shadows on the nearest target. "Now." A half second later, all hell broke loose in the underground down. A pair of sharp cracks were heard, the familiar detonation of the det packs going off. Accompanying them were the loud hissing shrieks of venting steam, followed by a deafening roar as the geothermal towers consumed themselves in a pair of great explosions. The sound covered the screaming roar of the bolter firing, the distracted miners not noticing one of their number had been slain until the second guard erupted in a fountain of gore as an explosive bolt turned his chest inside out.

Gaius leaned out from behind the wall, firing into the group of miners. A flying mass of armor and furs rushed beside him, Ulrich charging headlong into the hostile group, pistol barking and axe slashing. It was over in a moment, and they were charging down the street towards the center of town. Those who took up arms were slain, those who ran were ignored, thankfully the distraction seemed to be working, no massive wave of attackers came to challenge their progress, only the few that still stood on the street before them. Secondary fires seemed to have started, the town was slowly being consumed in flame, all the better then, it would take them some time to put the fires out. Hopefully they would be long gone by then. Their armored footfalls were like thunder upon the rock beneath them, carrying them far faster than any mortal man could hope to move. A moment later they burst out into the town square. The guards here had not left, they had stood fast to defend their prized artifact. Gaius had to admire their determination, if nothing else. The preacher seen before was still here, running about in the crowd frantically directing the troops around him. A moment later one of the guards fell down missing his head, somewhere in the shadows a Raven Guard lined up his next shot.

Mendoza braced his heavy bolter and ripped into the panicked crowd, a rapid deluge of high explosive ordinance tearing into the guards before they could bring their weapons to bear, chopping them into bits of flying meat. Ulrich was dancing his usual number, twirling and twisting amidst the enemy, axes flashing as he carved enemies apart. The Marines were not having it all their own way however, after the moment's shock wore off their enemy rushed to counterattack. Throwing themselves into what cover they could find, they opened fire with rifle and lasgun, bullets and lasbolts pinging off of the ceramite armor of the Deathwatch Marines. Xavier was moving around the outside of the fight, firing into the throng with his bolter, as Kartal lined up shot after shot, thinning the ranks of anyone who seemed to bring order to the chaotic horde. These miners might have been able to repulse the attack of the local law enforcement, but against the finest of the Adeptus Astartes they were hardly any real threat. Though their armor would likely need to be repainted after this fight, no serious repairs were in order. After a scant minute of frantic combat, the last of the defenders fell, the rest either having fled, or laying still on the floor. Gaius reloaded his bolter, and turned to face the artifact, which still let off the eerie glow he had seen before.

"This, could be problematic." Xavier said, walking over to stand beside Gaius. The Ultramarine nodded, the obelisk before them had to be at least fifteen feet tall. It would not be easy to move such an artifact. They could carry it, though it would likely be difficult and leave them open to attack. It seemed there was little other choice however, as there was no time to go searching for a vehicle, it was likely that the survivors of the attack had gone to find help, and Gaius did not wish to fight the entire settlement over their most valued object.

"What is it Xavier?" Gaius mused, walking closer to the object. Xavier activated several auspex devices, scanning the object that rested on the ground in front of them.

"Unknown." He concluded after a few moments. "It is emitting some form of radiant energy, nothing dangerous I assure you. It has an integral power source which seems to produce this energy. The device is of unknown function, I see no evidence of instrumentation or access ports, nor is there any form of language or script visible on the external casing." The Techmarine walked slowly around the outside of the obelisk. "There is one other curious observation I can make. The object does not seem to in any way be connected to its surroundings, there are no cables or links to anything else, and the only emission from the obelisk is the radiated energy I mentioned. However, judging by my readings the amount of energy generated within the device is greater than the energy being released."

"Which means?" Gaius asked, hoping to find the kernel of truth within the Salamander's traditionally long winded explanation.

"Which means, that the device is releasing or storing that energy somehow. I initially assumed it was storing the energy, but I see no indication of that. There is no thermal discrepancy that would indicate a capacitor of some kind being charged. Since I can conclude that the energy is not being stored, to by knowledge, that leaves only the possibility that the energy is being transmitted, but since there is no physical connection like a cable or something similar, and the energy levels are lower than the energy being emitted, so it must be being sent somewhere."

"Where Xavier?" Gaius asked. The Techmarine seemed to shift a little, struggling for words.

"He doesn't like to say the words." Ulrich cut in. Xavier spared him a glance, looking back to Gaius.

"I do not know, only that the energy is being sent, elsewhere."

Gaius looked at the obelisk, sitting innocently on the rock in the middle of the square. "What are you?" He breathed. He shook his head a moment later, walking towards the device. "Whatever this thing is, I'm sure the Inquisitor will be able to discover more about it. Come brothers, help me move this." Gaius reached out and placed a hand on the obelisk. Suddenly, he felt a warmth pushing through his gauntlet, a spike of heat. He withdrew his hand sharply, to see a reddish orange pulse of light travel out from where his hand touched the strange metal, racing all the way around the obelisk. "Energy emissions spiking!" Xavier said, grabbing his weapon, the other Marines doing the same. The obelisk glowed brighter and lifted off from the floor, hovering in the air a few feet over the stone. The metal moved, the obelisk seeming to unfold as small wedges of metal began to circle about it, spinning and twisting.

"Do we shoot it?" Mendoza queried, readying his weapon. Gaius did not know how to respond. They had been tasked with retrieving this device, damaging it would be frowned upon. He had never encountered, or even heard of, a device like this, for all he knew this was all a part of its normal functioning. He held out a hand to calm the Fist, who kept his weapon trained. The obelisk seemed to stabilize in the air, no longer rising. Gaius began to wonder if the object had stopped whatever it was doing, when suddenly a flash of blue light erupted in front of him. It seemed at first to be a ball of blue white light, but in a split second something erupted out of it, glowing red with a face of fury, the creature from out of the light leaped towards Gaius. "Daemons!" He shouted, opening fire as the thing closed to melee in a heartbeat.

Gaius snapped his bolter up, firing at the creature as it rushed in. The bolts connected and exploded, making the creature stagger, but it did little to slow it. It lashed out with a glowing red blade on its arm, far too close for the Marine's comfort. Gaius batted at the weapon with his bolter, surprised at the strength of the blow as it sent his weapon off to one side. He brought the bolter back up, slamming the butt of the weapon into the face of the daemon assaulting him. The creature staggered back, giving Gaius time to line up a shot. He pulled the trigger, but the bolt sailed through empty air, the monster vanishing in the same pulse of blue light that it appeared from. "What was that?" Mendoza demanded, scanning the area with his weapon.

"No idea, look out more of them!" Gaius shouted as more of the glowing red creatures emerged from pinpoints of light.

They were all very similar, he noted now that he got a good look at them. They were hunched over, their heads sticking out the front of their bodies. They were bone white with glowing red highlights, and appeared to be encased in armor of some form. One of them raised an arm before Gaius could line up a shot, sending golden streaks of light across the square to impact his pauldron, pushing his shoulder back a little. "They have rifles!" He shouted, ducking into cover before firing a burst against the creature that had shot him. The bolt took it full in the chest, exploding but seeming to do little to no damage, the creature screaming at him and vanishing in another blaze of light. "Bolters are ineffective!" He said, switching to another target and pumping bolts into it.

Across the square he saw the staccato flashes of Mendoza firing his heavy bolter. The massive bolts were slamming into one of the strange creatures, driving it back. A moment later there was a strange flash of light before chunks of armor were carved out of the monster, before it screamed a death cry and seemed to melt into golden dust. "You're not using enough gun!" Mendoza shouted, switching to another target. Suddenly another of the creatures appeared right next to the Fist, jamming the muzzle of its weapon into his chest and firing, the blast sending him stumbling to the side, the place where the shot hit a molten crater.

"Mendoza!" Gaius shouted, firing a prolonged burst into the creature, which succumbed after a few seconds firing, dying in that same cloud of golden ash. Something flew over his head, he looked up to see a little flying object, a central core with two rings suspended next to it. He watched as it shot a pulse of blue light at a pile of ash, a moment later the dead daemon rising up again from the ashes. "They don't stay dead!" He shouted, firing at the reborn monster. "Kill the flyers, the resurrect the large ones!"

"That's not all they do!" Kartal said, "They create some form of shield around the larger creatures, I cannot breach it." Gaius sneered, firing into another of the creatures as it vanished. He looked down to see some kind of beam of red light falling upon his chest. Reacting on instinct he dived sideways onto the rock, just in time. A beam of crimson-gold light lanced through the space he had just occupied, carving out a chest-sized hole in the floor next to him. He half rose and fired a suppressive volley, running over to where Mendoza was in cover. "Brother, are you injured?" He asked, looking at the cooled impact wound on Mendoza's armor.

"Only my pride." The Astartes responded, firing another burst into the enemy ranks.

"Sergeant, I am aware this is not the best time…" Xavier said, in the tone of voice Gaius disliked most of all.

"What is it brother?" Gaius asked, ducking behind cover as another hail of deadly light fell on his hiding place.

"I fear that our distraction is getting out of hand. If my readings are correct then the explosions have triggered a chain reaction within the geothermal vents this settlement is built upon. With nowhere to go the pressure is slowly building in the rock beneath us, when it reaches a high enough level it will breach, explosively. I highly advise against being here when that happens."

Gaius considered, looking out at the glowing enemies flitting across the rooftops. Whenever one of them became injured they would dash behind cover to regenerate, which they did with alarming speed before attacking again. There was nothing else for it, Gaius gave the order that felt like ash in his mouth. "Fall back! Fighting retreat!" The other marines looked to him in surprise. "The ground beneath us will soon vent its energy, the entire settlement will be consumed and us with it. We cannot be here when that happens, fall back. Cover each other with bolter fire and get out of here!" The marines were shocked and angered at the order, but they obeyed it, dashing from cover to cover as they fired to keep the enemy pinned down. Another large shot vaporized part of a wall, barely missing Kartal as he dodged into an alley. After a few moments of running, the attacks subsided. Gaius glanced over his shoulder to see the strange creatures clustered around the obelisk. It seemed they valued protecting it more than pursing the Astartes. All the better, perhaps the explosion would be enough to kill them permanently. The squad fled the town, racing as fast as their armored legs could carry them.

"How long until the explosion?" Mendoza asked.

"According to my estimates it should have happened already!" Xavier said, speeding up if that was possible.

They cleared the edge of the settlement and started running up the ramp leading to the tunnels they came in through. Suddenly, a great hand reached out and slapped the marines across the back, sending them toppling over and slamming into the ground. A deafening shockwave rushed over them, dust and rocks flying through the air. Gaius looked back, seeing a massive cloud of dust and rock rising where the center of the town had been, every building was flattened. The marines rose and dusted themselves off, looking into the ruin that a moment ago had been a settlement. Gaius sneered as out of the dust cloud rose the obelisk, it's gleaming sides unmarred by the destruction. A moment later it flashed and winked out of existence, vanishing in a blink of light.

Ulrich dusted off the pelts that adorned his armor, checking to make sure his gear was intact. "What now sergeant?" He asked.

Gaius looked at the ruin one more time, before turning to the tunnels and walking in. "Now we get out of these damned tunnels and tell the Inquisitor what we saw. Then we find that accursed thing, wherever it has gone." Within his sealed helmet the Ultramarine swore a silent vow. He would find that artifact, and uncover the truth behind it. He did not know how long it would take, but Astartes had long memories, and did not soon forget failures like this. Someday, he would discover the truth, he swore it.

Meanwhile, a universe away…

Captain Conrad Warrick sat in the troop bay of the Pelican dropship as it skimmed over the sea towards their destination. The bay was full of soldiers, strapped into their seats and cradling their weapons. They were all armored head to toe in magnificent armor, Mjolnir Gen II to be exact. Each had customized their gear to fit their preferred combat role, and to show a little personal taste. Warrick himself wore a custom suit, an EOD helmet sitting atop a Hazop chest piece, Scout patterned shoulder guards and heavy over plated leg guards leaving little of the undersuit exposed to incoming fire. He rested the DMR in his hands against his seat, leaning in. He fiddled with the datapad he was holding, manipulating the hologram being projected into the troop bay. "Alright Spartans listen up, here's the plan. Our job is to infiltrate the Covenant facility on the coastline and destroy the shielding pylon they've set up to cover their base in this area. Orbital strike packages aren't available to take it out, so they need us to go in with the ground pounders and drop the shields so the flyboys can move in to mop up the Covies on the ground. If we don't get that shield down, the Covenant will have a solid base from which to launch attacks on civilian populations nearby. We've got Army and Marine forces committed to the fight, but make no mistake we're the tip of the spear on this operation. Rasher, I want you with me pushing up the center, work your black magic and get the Covies to back off a little. Nova, I want you on the best vantage point possible with your rifle, start picking off targets of opportunity as you see them. Shadow, you're on stealth as normal, move through enemy formations and get us some forward recon. Whiskey, you're general combat with Rasher and me. Got that?"

"Hooah." The Spartans coursed.

Warrick nodded, readying his weapon "Hooah, prepare to drop, ETA on the target zone is three minutes, we're going to hit Covie air assets inside of one, sit tight and let the flyboys do their jobs."

The Spartans braced themselves in the troop bay. None of them liked being stuck in air combat or in space, they were out of their element. Being a passenger meant being at the mercy of anothers abilities to keep you alive, your fate was out of your control. For a Spartan, who was used to defying death by their own skill and ability, it was almost unbearable to have to put all their faith in the skills of another. Warrick leaned back in his seat and keyed his radio into their Air Force's frequency, listening to their comm chatter as they raced ahead of the lumbering transports to engage enemy fighters high over the target zone, the UNSC pilots trying to keep their voices calm as they mixed it up with Banshees and Seraphs. The two sides were seemingly equally matched in terms of fighters, the Broadsword along with drone fighters were able to hold their own against the Covenant aircraft. The Pelican twisted and turned as it wove through the spiraling dogfight, bringing the team close to its objective. Warrick could hear the external guns firing intermittently as the discouraged any attackers from trying to pounce on the slower transport craft. Finally, after a short eternity of waiting, the ramp opened and the red light suffusing the troop bay turned green. "Hit it Spartans!" Warrick shouted, running out the back of the dropship, his team close behind. They fell thirty feet to the ground, landing with puffs of dust and crushed rock, knees bending to easily absorb the impact.

Warrick scanned the area, noting some movement in the distance but nothing close enough to immediately menace the Spartans. "Right, Nova get up high and start doing your thing." The Scout-armored Spartan nodded, running for an elevated ridge and igniting his jetpack to climb to a good sniper perch. "Shadow, get moving forward and get us forward recon." The Spartan nodded, moving forward in his Wetwork armor, activating active camouflage whenever he moved across an open area. That left Rasher and Whiskey with Warrick. Whiskey was a competent general combatant with an eye for heavy weapons, and was also the tech specialist. He wore Gungnir armor, purpose built for heavy weapons duty. Rasher was the team's close combat expert. He wore a suit of War Master armor, the skull like visor enhanced further with a stylized skull carved into the visor. Rasher was very good at his job, though he worried Warrick at times. Rasher preferred to fight close in, and fought as brutally as possible, the Spartan went out of his way to inflict terror upon the enemy wherever he could, it was not what a Spartan usually did. There were other Spartans like Rasher, called themselves 'Totenkopf', meaning 'Death's Head'. From what he knew the movement started with a Spartan III who loved to fight at point blank, its members carved their visors into skulls and sought to sow terror in the enemy ranks. Rasher was a very good fighter, but his obsession with fighting brutal over fighting efficiently made Warrick worry he would do something stupid someday. "You two with me." He said simply, moving forward as Rasher readied his shotgun, Whiskey preparing his SAW.

They moved up, dashing between cover, trying to keep as much solid rock between them and any possible hostiles as they could, avoiding running across open terrain wherever possible. It couldn't last forever of course, and soon he heard the calm, even voice of Shadow coming across the comm. "Guard post, thirty meters to your front. Three Elites overseeing eleven Grunts and five Jackals, one Jackal is a sniper. Be advised, they also have a heavy plasma turret on the high ground." Warrick grimaced behind his visor, he hated snipers. "Nova, you're on the sniper, take him out before he can cause me any grief." Nova sent a simple green light confirmation, already moving into position on the enemy rifleman. Warrick pulled up the video feed from Shadow's helmet, seeing what the other Spartan saw. He marked the position of the plasma turret, "Whiskey, get your big stick out and eliminate that turret, then switch to dealing with the infantry. Rasher, you go for the officers, take out the leadership and get the little ones to scatter." The two Spartans nodded, Whiskey readying his laser while Rasher just flexed his shoulders in anticipation of the fight ahead. "Right, execute on T minus five, four, three…" Warrick let the visors finish the count down, when the timer hit zero, all hell broke loose.

The first thing heard was the crack of the sniper rifle as it decapitated the enemy sniper. A half second later Whiskey spun around the corner and squeezed the trigger on the laser, the red lance of energy melting through the armor on the turret, causing its power source to explode in a blue-white fireball. Warrick leaned out of cover and opened fire with his DMR, the first shot going through the skull of an unfortunate Grunt before he switched targets. Rasher was gone in a flash, charging straight up the slope towards the guard post, shotgun out in front of him. Warrick shook his head and followed after the overzealous Spartan, no sense in leaving him out on his own. Behind him the roaring report of the SAW opened up, tearing into another unfortunate Grunt and making a Jackal stagger as the rounds slammed into his shield. Shadow opened fire as well, carefully threading shots from his DMR into the throng below him. Warrick snapped up his rifle to shoot the exposed wrist of a Jackal, making it stagger to expose its head, which he took off a moment later. Suddenly he was hit with a staggering blow, his shields dropping almost to flatline, had to be an overcharged plasma burst. He dived for cover and activated his regen field, the greenish light expanding to encompass him as it started his shields climbing back to full strength. He peered out of cover to see the Jackal with the plasma pistol leaning over the lip of the rock outcrop he had hidden under, before a gauntleted hand grabbed it by the throat and pulled it back out of sight. It seemed Rasher had reached his destination, if the panicked screams were anything to go by.

Warrick leaned over, giving his suit a moment to recharge before activating his VISR, the active scanner punching through the rock to highlight the various figures moving on the platform above. As he thought, Rasher was in amongst the Covies now, working his shotgun and serrated knife while howling like a banshee. Whatever oddities he subscribed to, the man knew how to fight in close quarters, he gave Rasher that. Warrick came barreling out of his hiding spot, bringing is plasma pistol to bear, sinking an overcharged shot into the nearest elite, who promptly took a headshot form Shadow. Rasher readied his rifle again, firing from the hip with the aid of his helmet link, running around the outside of the fight a he sank shots into Grunts and Jackals, another Elite being cut in half by Rasher's shotgun. It was all over in less than a minute, the standard length of an engagement like this. "Team, report status, anyone hurt?" A chorus of negatives came over the comm. Warrick nodded, "Right, keep it moving, same pattern as before, we need to get to that target. Soon, it's only a matter of time before Covie reinforcement gets here and this battle gets a lot harder than it has to be."

The advanced further up the battleground, towards the spire which loomed high overhead, the sounds of battle filtering over the terrain towards them. Warrick could hear the sound of UNSC firearms alongside the whine of Covenant plasma weapons. The base of the spire was in a bowl in the rock below them, Warrick's team having a high vantage point over the carnage. Warrick looked out over the battle unfolding below them. UNSC Marines and Army were engaged with Covenant forces near the base of the spire, though they seemed to be making little headway. Warrick heard the shriek of a banshee flying overhead, and pointed from Whiskey to it, the Spartan drawing his laser and taking aim. "This is Captain Warrick to Army and Marine elements, sitrep?" He asked, his question punctuated by the banshee exploding.

"Well, a bit better now Captain." The woman on the other end of the comm said, "We've pinned down here, unable to advance. Enemy keeps bringing in more troops to engage us. We've gotten this far but the Covies have the high ground and heavy weapons, we can't advance without incurring heavy casualties." Warrick nodded, agreeing with the Marine's assessment. "Nova, start taking the pressure off, hit their weapon crews and marksmen. Shadow, Whiskey, get down there and assist those troopers, try to get them moving forward again. Rasher, you and me are going for the spire itself. Everyone good?"

"Hooah!" came the reply, Warrick nodding. "Move out!" He cried, launching over the incline and sliding down the rock slope.

Whiskey and Shadow broke off to run to the aid of the troopers, another laser burst making a ruin out of a speeding Ghost. Warrick fired his pistol again, downing the shields of an unfortunate elite before putting a round through his helmet, switching targets to injure a Grunt. He didn't bother to finish the alien off, charging straight towards the grav lifts at the bottom of the spire. The Covies were so focused on suppressing the troopers they hadn't been ready for such a fast attack from the side, the Spartans blowing past the few defenders they had there, quickly making it to the grav lifts leading to the second level. The two Spartans leaped into the shining lifts, quickly carried up to the second floor, a blast from Rasher's shotgun reducing an unfortunate Jackal to a stain on the wall. "Come on, we need to open the path upward!" Warrick said, rushing out of the room they had dropped into, turning the corner to enter the room with the lifts leading further up into the spire. They were locked out behind an energy shield, Warrick ran over to the control panel. "Cover me." He ordered, Rasher nodding as he slipped into cover at the door, shotgun ready. Warrick plugged a chip into the panel, downloading a virus into the system. All they had to do was defend the panel until the virus opened up the shields, then they could enter the spire and finish the enemy off.

The shotgun barked again, blasting another Elite trying to enter the room. Warrick rushed over to help hold the doorway. The Covenant knew they were in here now, they were throwing more units in to attack them as the word that Spartans were in the spire spread. They only had to hold out a few more seconds though, the door was almost open. Warrick leaned out of cover to put some more shots into the enemy outside, ducking back to avoid the blast from a plasma grenade. A moment later his helmet chimed, the way was open. "Up the lift!" He ordered, breaking off from cover to head to the shimmering light. He was halfway to the grav lift when he heard the snap-hiss of a plasma sword igniting behind him. He turned in a fraction of a second, rifle up as he saw the swordsman rush towards him, he pushed out with his rifle, only to have it neatly bisected by the energy sword. Rasher turned to try and engage, but his aim was spoiled when he barely dodged out of the way of the arcing sword. "Go!" Warrick shouted, pushing the other Spartan bodily into the grav lift, turning to face the Elite.

"Foolish." The alien growled, readying his sword again.

"It is foolish." Warrick agreed, igniting his own plasma blade, a three foot blade of blue white plasma extending from his right forearm. "You should know you're outmatched."

The Elite scoffed, and they launched towards each other.

Their blades flashed as they rebounded off each other, Warring parrying the blow the Elite had thrown at him, countering with a stab of his own. The elite sent his thrust sideways with an expert parry, striking out with his empty hand, pushing Warrick back. The Spartan maintained his footing, bringing his sword up in time to block a sideways slash from the Elite. They broke apart after a moment, each pacing around the outside of the room, their blades in ready positions, waiting for the other to make a move. "You fight well with a blade human." The Elite growled after a moment.

Warrick shrugged slightly, "I practice a lot." He said, jumping in for another jab, feinting with a high jab before slashing low. The Elite saw his ploy and countered, swatting Warrick's blade sideways and turning the motion into a spinning kick, nearly taking Warrick in the head. Warrick ducked low to avoid the flying hoof, lunging forward to close with the Elite, his blade on course with the aliens chest. Unfortunately, the Elite had longer legs than Warrick had arms, and planted a hoof in his armored chest. The blow stopped his advance, but the alien had underestimated the sheer force in a charging Spartan, it looked like he hurt his foot. He stepped back on his injured limb, cursing in his native tongue. Warrick pounced on him, bringing his blade in close, but the elite parried again, grabbing ahold of his arm and spinning the Spartan, using his own momentum to carry him past the Elite to slam him into the wall. The alien readied his blade, about to plunge it in for the kill, but Warrick kicked him hard in the side, knocking the wind out of the alien and making him pause his attack.

Warrick pushed off from the wall, grappling with the elite, sending the armored alien tumbling to the floor. The alien grabbed his arm, sending his plasma blade sinking into the melting floor beside his head. It was the wrong angle to use the wrist mounted sword, so he deactivated it, shunting the energy into his shields. He wriggled a hand out of the Elite's grasp, drawing his fighting knife, plunging it down towards the Elite's throat. The alien grabbed ahold of his wrists, fighting for all his worth against the superhuman strength of the Spartan. It seemed to be a losing fight, but the Elite countered by twisting sideways and letting up the pressure, sending Warrick surging forward as the alien pivoted, neatly flipping Warrick onto his back, reversing the grip on the knife and pushing it down towards the Spartan's chest, using his weight to offset the Spartan's strength. They grunted and groaned as the knife wavered back and forth, each of them at a stalemate as they struggled to move the knife. Then a loud explosion split the air. Warrick looked sideways to see debris falling down from the sky, the top of the spire had been blown off. He looked back up to the Elite on top of him. "That would be the sound of us winning." He said. The Elite seemed to listen to something on his helmet radio, letting out an annoyed breath. "Damn." He said in his deep voice, "This was going so well."

"Until you lost." Warrick said, pushing the Elite off of him. The alien rolled sideways and lay on his back on the floor, groaning as he felt himself. "I think I picked up a few bruises." He grunted, sitting up to feel his sore hoof. "Forgot how heavy you are in that armor."

Warrick slowly rose to his feet, massaging his shoulder, sore from blocking so many blows. "I almost forgot you were so fast with that sword, it's been a while." The Spartan and Elite walked out of the room, looking up to see the holographic sky deactivate, replaced with the gunmetal gray of the combat deck's ceiling.

"You have gotten better with the sword." The Elite said, nodding.

"You've been a good teacher." Warrick replied. Around them the various combatants were picking themselves up, shouldering their weapons and walking off the simulated battlefield. A loud voice cut over the room, which was slowly deactivating and returning to the simple flat metal plane it usually was. "Exercise concluded, UNSC victory." Said the cheerful voice over the PA, "All combatants report to debriefing, and then the bar."

Warrick smiled. "Sounds like a plan."

The two of them fell in with the other combatants, shuffling out of the Wotan's combat deck. This was the seventh day of combat trials, everyone was starting to get a little tired from the constant war games. But this was what they were here for, elements from every branch of the UNSC, as well as their nonhuman allies had gathered to take part in force on force training exercises, taking advantage of the advanced combat deck the Wotan used to simulate any of a great number of potential combat environments. The various humans and aliens walked through the corridors of the ship, massaging bruises and aches, or chatting with their fellow combatants. Warrick walked alongside his friend, Runa Tarikom, Sangheili Spec Ops operative and swordsman. They had met at a similar exercise two years ago, and had made a point to find each other whenever their units came into contact. Runa had taken the opportunity to help Warrick fine tune his skills with his plasma blade, something the Spartan was grateful for. The two of them, along with some Army troopers who seemed a little wary of the super soldier and alien, filed into one of the debriefing rooms, sitting down around the holo emitter. A moment later, a little figure popped up atop the platform.

It was a human male, looked to be in his early twenties, standing about a foot tall. He was dressed in full black plate armor, a black cape thrown across his shoulders and a bastard sword at his hip. He smiled up at the assembled combatants. "Nice fighting out there, all of you." The small figure said, waving to the personnel sitting around his plinth, "You did the UNSC proud out there, and all due honor to our visitor from Sangheilos, that was some very fine work you did as well." Runa bowed his head respectfully. "Captain Warrick, my compliments on some fine swordsmanship!" The little knight said, clapping his hand on the sword he wore, "That was exciting to see." Warrick nodded, "Thank you Fockewulf." He said, indulging the AI's fondness for chatter. "Right then, now that the formalities are out of the way, let's get down to the nitty-gritty." Fockewulf said, leaning against a section of what appeared to be a tavern bar that appeared beside him. He produced a drinking horn from within his cape, pouring himself a measure of holographic mead. "You will note the Marines were advancing steadily until they ran into 'Covenant' armored groups. They managed to defeat this, however they suffered undue losses, this could have been mitigated if…"

After an hour of going over the preceding battle in excruciating detail, examining the various units on either side from multiple angles, Fockewulf declared their debriefing over and done with, allowing the personnel to file out and go about their business. Runa and Warrick walked out into the corridor, the Spartan turning to the Elite. "I believe you owe me a drink, that was the agreed upon wager." The Sangheili shifted in place. "You did not best me in combat. That fight was a draw." He said.

Warrick shrugged. "We still won, that's what's important, even if I didn't beat you specifically." Runa shook his head but didn't protest, walking towards the bar. Such a thing might have seemed out of place on a warship, but the Wotan was no ordinary vessel. An advanced prototype, the Wotan was the first ship of its class. Meant to serve as a deep range base of operation for a large fighting force, Wotan was the most massive ship ever constructed by human hands, measuring roughly twenty kilometers from prow to stern. Shaped like a smooth wedge narrowing from its wide engines down to the massive bow gun on its nose, the Wotan incorporated numerous technological advances made by the UNSC following the war with the Covenant, and their plundering a few Forerunner treasure troves. It was intended to serve as a flying military outpost, with a production base and resource harvesting ability to equip and maintain its massive onboard fighting force. This was all in addition to the devastating shipboard armament the Wotan carried, enough to turn the tables on a small fleet of conventional Covenant ships. Given its mission, the Wotan incorporated a number of creature comforts, centered around an open air gallery nestled in the heart of the ship. That was where Runa and Warrick were headed now, only stopping to allow Warrick to remove his half-ton armor in favor of a simple uniform.

The transport tubes ferried them quickly through the bowels of the ship, dropping them off a few minutes later in the entertainment sector. The design specifications had allowed for this entertainment area to be more open than the rest of the ship, the area immediately after the transport tube opening up into what looked like two large building fronts, connected with sky bridges. Shops, restaurants, a couple bars and even a theater were built into the structure, serving all kinds of tastes. Beyond that, the street opened up into a park, real trees and grass swaying in the artificial wind beneath a simulated sunny sky. It seemed over the top, but when the crew were expected to stay aboard for months or even years in the event of a behind enemy lines operation, they needed something to keep them from going stir crazy, and you'd be surprised what watching the clouds roll by could do, even if the clouds were holographic.

The pair walked into Warrick's favorite bar, styled like an old English tavern. They bellied up to the bar and ordered their drinks. The bartender didn't look surprised to see Runa there, he had grown used to seeing the pair stop by when there was a joint force operation in progress. The two drank their beers in silence for a moment, before Warrick broke the silence. "Do you think this will ever come to anything?" He asked.

"What do you mean?" Runa asked.

"The endless training, preparation drills, cross force exercises. Your people have done a pretty good job finishing off the Brutes, the Storm Covenant have been losing ground ever since they lost so many of their forces at Requiem, it seems the galaxy is getting to be a safer place. Do you think all of this will ever come to anything, that this will all be needed?"

Runa considered. "It is my belief, that the greatest thing a warrior can hope for is that he is never needed. Should the day come that my service is required, I shall go to battle gladly. If my life fades into old age and I need never draw my sword in anger, I will consider that a blessing. In the meantime, I shall simply prepare as best I can for whatever lies ahead, for who can saw what the future holds?"

Warrick shrugged. "Now that would be something, a career without war. I'll drink to that."

"You'll drink to anything." Teased the alien.

"Shut up!"

The training operation continued for another three days, the two forces finally parting to go nurse their wounds in peace. Runa Tarikom thinking hard on what he had said to his friend in the bar. A career without war would be a fine thing to look back on. But he felt in his bones that fate had other things in store. He wondered if he was right when his next orders came in. Their ships were to investigate a supposed Forerunner ruin on the edge of Sangheili space, and attempt to recover anything useful from the ruins. Intelligence suspected that Covenant loyalists may have moved to secure the site ahead of them. So much for a career without war, he mused, as the ships launched into slipspace.

In another time and place…

Inquisitor Tyburn Graves looked over the dataslate in his hands, reviewing the report from the Deathwatch marines he had sent to retrieve the artifact. "And that was when the entire town exploded?" He asked looking up at the Ultramarine standing in his office. Even without his armor, Gaius was an intimidating figure, though the Inquisitor had known the Ultramarine for too long to be afraid of him, or his brothers. Whatever their quirks they were loyal to the Imperium, and by extension him. They were also quite effective, with a record for success that, until now, had made him confident in their ability to handle a wide array of problems. But now that record had been tarnished with the squads first unmitigated failure in recent memory.

"Yes sir, the geothermal pressure caused the destruction of the settlement." Gaius said in clipped tones.

Graves looked down to the slate, reviewing the after action report. "These 'daemons' you describe, tell me more about them." He said, looking back to the Marine.

"My report is complete Inquisitor, everything I observed about their capabilities is in there."

Graves shook his head, "I want it from you first hand, what were they like?"

The Ultramarine considered for a moment. "They seemed at once alive, and not alive. Their exterior form was of armor, no flesh was visible. Their every line seemed hard and artificial, like a machine. But the way they moved was very natural and organic. They moved like a living thing would, their reactions were natural, not artificial. They seemed to become angry when injured, screaming at us as we fought. I have never heard of anything like them before."

"Nor I." Graves said, "And that likely carries as much weight. That their weapons were enough to damage Astartes armor is concerning enough." He looked at the pict of Mendoza's damaged chest piece, "And they have an unknown agenda. I do not like unknowns Marine, I detest unknowns."

"As do I sir." Gaius agreed, remaining at attention.

Graves shook his head, looking at some of the pictures captured by the Marine's helmets. The design of these creatures was unlike anything he had seen or heard of before. Of course the Imperium was vast, the universe even more so. These creatures could be a new force, or a very old one, there was little way to know for certain. He had put out inquiries to some of the allies in his Ordo, and hoped to hear back from them before all too long.

"Let me see if I have summed this up." Graves said, leaning back in his chair. "We have a potential new player on the scene, as if we did not have enemies enough. The artifact is gone, vanished under its own power to Emperor knows where, it is guarded by powerful combatants whose full capabilities are yet unknown, and we have absolutely no idea where it has gone?"

The Marine considered. "Yes, that seems a full account of the situation."

Inquisitor Graves shook his head. "I was hoping I had overstated something." He said, "We've got our work cut out for us Gaius, again."

"I am with you until the end." The Ultra assured him. And of that Tyburn had no doubts.

"Very well, we set course for the Inquisitorial archives on Eridon, perhaps they have some knowledge of our mystery creatures."

Gaius nodded curtly, and left the room. Tyburn Graves leaned back in his chair and poured himself a glass of Amasec, sipping the alcohol as he considered the day's events. The mystery surrounding the artifact was a shocking one, possible evidence of a new threat on the galactic scene. One with alarmingly powerful weapons and strange abilities. The capacity to teleport with that much accuracy was worrying in and of itself, for the kind of technical capacity it implied meant the strangers were likely advanced in other areas as well. Whatever the case, Graves would dedicate himself to getting to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the obelisk, and this new race. Or perhaps, an old race. A chill raced down his spine as he took another bracing shot of Amasec, it was not a thought he contemplated comfortably.

Aboard a Kig-Yar Corvette, in another place…

Seth Zakrin walked down the hall of the Corvette, the soft purple light illuminating the walls and floor. The other Kig-Yar walked past him, going about their own duties. Most of these around him were naval personnel, not a ground pounder like him. Seth stood a good head above the other Kig-Yar, 'Jackals' as the humans had named them. It was a virtue of his genetics. He was bigger and stronger than the others, a sleek head with black plumage atop a well-muscled body. He was a genetic subset of his race, 'Skirmishers' the humans called them, the Kig-Yar name meant something similar. Seth wasn't aboard he Kig-Yar Confederacy Corvette for his health, he fully expected to see combat on this cruise, and that was fine by him. Combat usually meant good things for those who survived, promotion, medals, loot. All things which were favorable to possess come mating season. Life had been hard, but good for Seth Zakrin so far. He had proven himself in various skirmishes with Covenant loyalists over the past few years, rising to the rank of junior officer. He had been assigned to the Corvette 'Righteous Indignation' two months back, and was now in command of the small compliment of ground troops aboard. Seth wasn't one to get overly attached to his postings, but he had to admit he had come to like it here, for a few reasons.

One was the pay, naval crews in general were paid more than groundside garrisons, the other was the prestige. There had always been a certain glory to the brave crews of small fast ships in Kig-Yar culture, the human term 'swashbuckler' described it aptly. Something about it harkened back to the old days of the pirate princes, before the Covenant had come and subjugated them. Out here, in a small fast ship on the edge of known space, Seth was living out the dream of most every young Kig-Yar. Again, this was something the ladies found hard to resist, it certainly made shore leave far more entertaining. Unfortunately, Seth did not have the luxury of enjoying such memories, he was far more preoccupied with the prospect of the mission ahead of him. They were being deployed alongside a Sangheili detachment to secure a cache of Forerunner artifacts. While a mission like this often meant great plunder and glory, the agents undercover inside the Storm Covenant had sent back information indicating that the enemy was present in large numbers, and were going to put up a hard fight. The loyalist Covenant always fought bitterly over their 'holy' artifacts, any scrap of Forerunner tech drove them mad. Seth tried to keep from worrying, they were hardly going in alone, they had a number of allies going into the fight, he wouldn't be doing anything exceptionally dangerous. All he had to do was keep his head down, and stay alive, then be in position to enjoy the fruits of victory. And he was abs

tely confident they would win. It was the credo of a corvette crew, confidence at all times. If he doubted himself now, wherever would he end up?

Seth walked along the corridor, checking on a few members of his ground team, doing what he could to reassure them before the mission. Their ETA to the target was about five hours, but it was never too early to start getting the good words in. "Just keep your sight lines clear and let the Sangheili take the hits, their shields can deal with the punishment a lot more than your poor hides can." The Kig-Yar he was talking to laughed, gesturing to his shield gauntlet.

"This little thing can take hits too, you should get one."

Seth shrugged, "My armor serves me well, a big shield like that would only slow me down, don't need a shield if you're moving so fast they can't aim after you. But go ahead, trust your little shield, I'm sure you'll be fine!" He said, a little laugh in his voice. The other man shook his head, chuckling too as Seth walked off. He continued his rounds for a while after that, getting something to eat while he was walking around. Battle on an empty stomach was not a prospect he wanted to experience again. At two hours to the operation zone, he went to the armory to get his weapons. He removed his shipboard clothes and pulled on his armor. There wasn't much in the way of standardization in the Kig-Yar military, whatever worked was good enough, they didn't see the point in making sure everyone had the same gear. Seth's gear was a mix of old Covenant equipment and human produced gear he'd bought over the years.

Following the formation of the Confederacy, the Kig-Yar people realized that they had little in the way of major industry. It was something the Sangheili were familiar with as well, but they at least had a few armories on their homeworld to help keep them supplied, the Kig-Yar had no such luxury. As such, they had been forced to purchase their weapons and gear from whoever was selling. Surprisingly, a big source of armaments came from human weapons corporations. They had spent so many years during the war producing the arms to fight the Covenant, and now that the war was over needed someone to sell their gear to. The Kig-Yar Confederacy, newly formed allies, proved a fertile market for their products. As such, Seth's armor was covered in human made tactical webbing and soft pouches.

His primary weapon was a battle rifle, its stock and grip modified to more comfortably fit a Kig-Yar hand. He had used this rifle for a few months now, growing quite fond of the human weapon. He slipped a few magazines of ammunition into his pouches, securing them in place as he set the rifle down. Next he drew his sidearm, another purchase from the humans. This was an M6C handgun, not quite the punch of the bigger magnums, but its integrated sound suppressor rendered it very quiet, and he preferred the lower recoil when working in close. He took a few magazines for that as well, strapping the handgun into his hip holster. After that he added the curved fighting knife customary to Kig-Yar fighters from the days before the Covenant, thankfully his forebears had preserved the ancestral design even during their subjugation. Seth wasn't a very sentimental man, but he admitted to a certain pride in carrying the ancient blade of his people, once again in the hands of a free Kig-Yar. A couple looted spike grenades were all that was left, slotted into a small bandolier he had sewn himself, and he was prepared, at least as much as he ever was, for the combat to come. After that he took to walking the halls again, the sight of an armed and armored soldier setting the reality of the battle to come in the minds of his fellow crewmen. He tried to calm their nerves and pass the time as best he could, but in the end the time was upon them, the final hours before they exited slipspace dwindling to nothing before their eyes. Finally, it was time, the briefing from the shipmaster coming over the intercom scant minutes before their transition back to realspace.

"Attention crew, here is the battle plan. Sangheili ships have already engaged the Loyalist ships orbiting the target planet and are making some headway. We shall be avoiding the battle as much as possible, though we may be called upon to provide fighter defense. All ground units are to report to the dropship bays, you shall be deploying to the planet's surface following a near-atmosphere slipspace jump. You are to be among the first units on the ground after our reversion to realspace, alongside Sangheili Rangers and SpecOps. You shall aid in eliminating enemy anti air forces in the target zone, so that a mass landing of general infantry can take place. Best of luck to you all, may your spoils be bountiful."

Seth nodded to the traditional good luck phrase, double timing it to the dropship bay. Being a rather small ship, the Righteous Indignation had only two Spirit dropships, just enough to convey the ground compliment to the target area. Strapping himself into a chair and locking his rifle into the slot beside him, Seth pulled up a map of the combat zone in front of him, examining it carefully. They were setting down outside the area covered by antiaircraft batteries, then walking in to eliminate a few carefully chosen targets to open up an air corridor for the rest of the dropships to run through. Of course it would have been easier to simply bombard the site from orbit, but of course the Sangheili didn't want to risk damaging the artifacts they were all so eager to capture. Well, they wouldn't be capturing all of them, if Seth had anything to say about it. He reviewed the positions where the Sangheili were dropping off their units as well, before stowing the pad, and holding on. A moment later he felt the familiar jolt of realspace transition, as the Righteous Indignation plunged headlong into another battle, dragging Seth along for the ride.

Three seconds after they reverted to realspace the forcefield snapped open, the Spirit dropships racing out into the void of space, angling down to their landing zone. This was the part of the mission Seth always hated the most. On the ground, no matter how bad things got, he at least had the comfort that his life was in his own hands. Out here in the black he had nothing but these thin walls to protect him, all his experience and skill was useless here, he was completely at the mercy of the pilot, and whatever allies were helping him to get to the ground alive. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, refusing to appear panicked in front of his men. However he felt, these people were depending on him to some degree, he couldn't go to pieces here. Bad morale out of the gate would be a terrible thing for the mission, and put himself and the others at greater risk than was needed. Soon he felt the buffeting of atmospheric entry as the sturdy little dropship forced itself through the planet's atmosphere, pushing down into the thicker air to keep as far from the space battle as possible. Listening to the chatter from the pilots, it was clear the dropships were flying low to the ground in an attempt to avoid enemy sensors, a tactic which seemed to be working. The eternity of waiting finally ended, the dropships settling down at the landing zone, grav lifts activating. Seth dropped down, the beam of light carrying him gently down to the ground.

He brought his rifle up, looking at the forested landscape around him. This was good, he liked trees, they gave good vantage points. He checked his tactical map, directing his troops. "Okay, the target is that way, we need to keep up a good pace. Shields off, don't want the light giving us away, activate them at the first sign of trouble. Skirmishers into the trees with me, everyone else move along the path we clear. Come on, no time to wait around! We don't want the Sangheili looting those ruins before we get there, right?" A chorus of negatives came back, making Seth grin. He took a running start and jumped up into the boughs of a tree, landing with the easy confidence of a practiced expert. Not all the skirmishers were so graceful, but they followed along well enough. He leaped from tree to tree, moving forward high above the ground, stopping after every other jump to scan the forest below him, eyes alert for any sign of an enemy patrol. He waited, nestled in the crook of a tree branch, sweeping the forest floor with his scope. Then, he heard the sound of a snapping branch in the distance, and twisted around to look after the noise. He saw movement, a group of figures coming into view. It was a patrol alright, an Elite shepherding a number of Grunts. By the ramshackle armor the Elite wore, and the emblem emblazoned on his chest, Seth knew this to be one of the fanatics still loyal to the Prophet's lies. Seth grinned savagely, and sighted in on his prey.

He clicked the weapon onto single shot, drawing a bead on the Grunt, keying his mic. "Enemy patrol, one Elite, six Grunts. Move to encircle them, I want that officer down fast, one-two punch, you know the drill. Below him he heard the Jackals moving through the underbrush, setting up the L shaped ambush they had drilled to perfection, two lines of Kig-Yar waiting in ambush to cut down the advancing enemy in a deadly crossfire. The unaware patrol drew closer to the waiting ambush, each step they took making Seth's nerves stretch further. He held his rifle steady through long experience, breathing steadily to manage his nerves. His scope rested steadily on the head of the highest ranking Grunt, just waiting for the patrol to move into position. Then, the Elite paused, raising his head and sniffing the air, a low growl starting in his throat. "Now!" Seth hissed through his mic, squeezing the trigger of the rifle, sending the Grunt topping backwards with a hole through its breather mask. The Elite howled a challenge, wasting precious seconds with a barbaric display as fanatics like him often did. He cut a dramatic martial figure there, waving his rifle to the sky, bellowing a war cry. He was also polite enough to present a nice target profile to the Jackal in the underbrush who promptly sunk a big glob of plasma into his armor, frying his shields. The Elite barely had time to look down in surprise before shot from a carbine took him through the skull.

Seth rolled his eyes, fanatics like this were so easy to fight, it was practically child's play. The grunts fell in instants, outnumbered and without a leader those who survived the first few seconds did not survive much longer. The patrol never had a chance, they had been cut down by a well-executed ambush. Seth might have felt sorry for them, had he not detested the notion of a fair fight. He dropped easily from his tree perch, walking over to the dead Elite on the forest floor. His subordinates were already picking over the dead Grunts, but Seth had first dibs on the Elite. It was traditional that the Jackal commander was the first to loot the enemy commander, no matter who killed him, though it was also traditional to reward the one who struck the fatal blow. Seth looked over to the two person team who felled the Elite, making a mental note to pay them a bounty if they survived the mission.

Seth's hands roamed over the dead Elite with practiced ease, relieving the corpse of its credit chit and sidearm, as well as the energy sword the dead leader never had a chance to draw, that was a good find. Elites would never buy such a thing, only swordsmen were allowed to carry one and they got their for free when they completed training, but human collectors went nuts about them, not that he could blame them. After that he pried off the shielding module from the armor, though sadly this one was too low ranked to have been issued with anything advanced like a stealth module. A few plasma grenades and an old plasma rifle were all that was left, which promptly disappeared into Seth's backpack, the grenades added to his bandolier. He also found a little datapad, which he held up. Seth walked away from the corpse, the other Jackals waiting on the sidelines moving in to pry anything else they could find from the body.

Seth activated the pad, giving it a quick look over. Sadly there was nothing so important as secret documents or even a map, not even a journal to shed some light on his activities here. Seth scowled, something sensitive like that would have paid well, but he took what he could get. The only apparent information on the pad was a set of image files. He pulled one up curiously, then stopped as a face looked up at him from the pad's screen. It took him a moment to recognize it, but when he did he felt a little chill. A much younger version of the dead elite smiled back up at him, dressed in brand new armor, surrounded by other such Elites, they had just graduated from warrior training. Possessed of a morbid curiosity he paged through the other images, seeing the Elite holding his energy sword proudly over his head, he must have just gotten it. The next image in the chain showed a female Sangheili, about the same age as the male in the pictures. He felt a knot in his throat when he saw them embracing. He flicked to the next one, then rapidly flicked past a few more which all featured the same female, her garments ranging from little to none. From there the pictures turned darker, the warrior in dented and scratched armor, falling in with the Storm Covenant, a simple picture of the forest here, then nothing. Seth shook his head, shutting the device down.

He walked back into the clearing, looking at his drakes pulling bits of armor off the dead Elite, he cleared his throat for attention, some turned. "Alright listen up, we're moving out, we've wasted enough time here. I'll be damned if the entire operation is waiting on us, we'll never live it down, now move it!" He shouted, sending the Kig-Yar scurrying off along the path. When Seth was sure they were out of sight, he leaned down and placed the datapad on the Elite's chest. "Sorry you were on the wrong side." He whispered, "For what it's worth, I hope you find her again." He stood back up, taking a last glance at the corpses littering the clearing, before leaping up into the trees and racing after his unit.

He caught up with them fast enough, leaping from branch to branch as he overtook them, rejoining the front guard as they moved further towards their objective. The forest was clear after that, evidently the guards were all occupied elsewhere. It seemed the Sangheili rangers had attacked with their customary subtlety, drop pods slamming straight into the enemy position and howling Elites with jetpacks making a mess of things. It was likely that a lot of the guards had run off to engage the obvious threat there. That was all well and good, less for his Jackals to deal with. He raised his rifle and scanned the perimeter of the compound ahead of them. A ramshackle air defense array had been constructed, the top weapons off of AA Wraiths sitting on crude mounts, power cables running across the ground. A few Elites and Grunts, as well as a handful of hostile Jackals milled about the compound, the Elites relieving their nerves by ordering their subordinates about and making dramatic proclamations to each other. Seth grimaced, this was not going to be an easy fight, the enemy was well entrenched, a few Grunts manning plasma cannons and marksmen on overwatch.

He keys his mic and started doling out orders, marking targets for the riflemen in his group, prioritizing enemy snipers and heavy weapons operators, the Elites being less of a threat at this range. His Jackals would move up in a loose formation across the open ground, sticking just close enough to get some shield overlap, his skirmishers would go straight over the wall to engage where their speed was their best advantage. A few of the more skilled marksmen were left here, perched in treetops with battle rifles and DMRs to provide long range fire support. All in all, this was probably the best setup they could hope for going into a fight like this. "Remember, keep quiet for as long as you can, we don't want to sound the alarm before we have to, let the Skirmishers get in as close as we can before the fight begins, we'll keep them busy so you Jackals can move into the compound and get into position. Marksmen, just make sure you keep their snipers occupied, I don't much fancy a hole in the head today." A few of the riflemen chuckled, though Seth knew they understood and took his order seriously. He activates his shields, the sleek curves covering his arms and some of his body. There was little point in subtlety with what was coming, and he suspected he would need all the protection he could get. Seth dropped to the ground and took off running, the rest of the Skirmishers rushing along just behind him, forming a wedge to maximize shield coverage over the entire unit. The nearest Grunt was looking up at the sky, trying to catch a glimpse of the aerial battle taking place high above, looking down just in time to see Seth flying over the wall at him, his finger tightening on the trigger of his magnum. Then he saw no more.

Seth hit the top of the tower guard post hard, standing high atop the wall as he holstered his magnum. One of the Grunts down in the square below turned towards him, curious at the sudden movement. The small creature shrieked in alarm as one of Seth's fellows drilled a carbine shot through his head. Seth finished swapping weapons, his battle rifle out and barking. He drilled three round bursts into the closest elite, squeezing the trigger three times before dropping down from the wall and darting across the ground. He heard the staccato crack of DMR shots as his marksmen went to work, and the war cries of the Elites as they marshaled their troops to deal with the sudden attack. They reacted well, Seth had to admit, snapping their weapons to bear and pouring plasma fire into his Skirmishers. A few stray shots slammed into his shields, the sturdy unit holding up but turning a warning red. He silently cursed for his Jackals to move faster as he dodged and jinked in the frantic brawl that had broken out. Seth drilled a burst into the chest of a Grunt, making the smaller alien clutch the wound and scream, but before he could finish the Grunt off an Elite took aim towards him and Seth was gone again, a blur of blue shields and black feathers in the whirling melee.

He heard the anguished squawk of one of his drakes falling, but there was no time to figure out who had been hit, they just had to keep the Elites busy until, there! He saw the familiar outline of a shield wall as his Jackals came into the fight at last, advancing in a steady formation, keeping each other covered with their shields as they started taking shots at whoever wasn't a Skirmisher. "Out of the fight!" Seth shouted, "Take the high ground and finish them off!" The Skirmishers leaped clear of the battle, scrambling to get out of the line of fire of the Jackals below who started firing full volleys of plasma and needles. Seth and his Skirmishers opened fire from above, catching the survivors in a brutal cross fire, they didn't last long. They put up a valiant fight, the last elite firing madly as his shields flared and died, screaming a battle cry to his gods as he was torn apart by bullets and plasma bolts. Soon only the echoes of gunfire were left, swiftly fading into the background noise of the battle far away. "Alright, decommission those weapons!" Seth ordered, his Jackals stowing their shields and running over to the anti-air arrays.

They scrambled over the weapons, emptying the magazines of the big guns, loading high caliber fuel rods into their backpacks, before setting to work destroying the guns. A few minutes later the weapons were left a shouldering ruin, and the outpost was picked clean in the way only a detachment of Kig-Yar could, everything that wasn't nailed down and small enough to carry had been looted, most anything of monetary value vanishing into pouches and packs so fast it was like they had never been there. Seth himself came away somewhat richer, credit chits and sidearms tucked into his pack or stuffed into his belt. He looked over to his Jackals, counting the dead. It seemed three of their number had not made it through the encounter. He shook his head, this was the other part he hated, the time after when the adrenaline died and you had to grieve. "You all fought well." He said, hoping to console his troops, "You did me proud, and we've come away better for it, nicely done everyone. As for those who have fallen, their families will know the reward they earned, it is all we can do for them now." When the battle was over and the loot tallied, a portion would be set aside and delivered to the next of kin for the dead soldiers, it was the Kig-Yar way of honoring their dead. Seth sat down upon an empty ammo crate, looking up at the sky. "It's on you now, make it count."

Elsewhere, in the same forest…

Runa Tarikom cursed into his comm. "The Jackals took their target down first?"

"Actually the Rangers took their target down first, the Jackals just finished theirs though." Said their handler back in the fleet.

Runa shook his head, he was not used to being beaten to the punch, especially not by Jackals. But they were almost to their target, so the attack force would not have to wait for long. Runa looked out over the complex before them, the crude anti-aircraft weapons pointed skyward. Crude, but they could be deadly effective if given half a chance, something Runa was not about to afford them. His fellow SpecOps Elites stole forward across the open ground, nothing but phantasms with their cloaking gear engaged. Even when invisible, they kept out of the sight lines of the guards, it was instinct that was hard to shake, but it did help. Even with their cloaks engaged, it was possible that they could be seen, the cloaks were not perfect and sometimes a haze was visible depending on the light or how fast you were moving. So the long years of stealth training and experience that made Runa so good at his job were hardly wasted here. Runa crept over to one of the gun batteries, placing demolition charges on the power supplies and ammo cases. It really was a bad idea to place the guns so close together, one big explosion would take them out, not that Runa was complaining of course. He was good at his job, but the incompetence of the enemy was always a welcome advantage to take into battle. Runa made sure his team was in position, before priming the detonator.

The explosion was most satisfactory, the plasma coils powering the emplacements detonating magnificently, the fuel rods sitting in the firing tubes brewing up as well. The cascading explosion consumed anyone unlucky enough to be standing near the emplacement in a ball of blue and green fire, and sent everyone else in the camp panicking, turning in their places to stare at the inferno that a moment ago had been the weapon they were responsible for. Of course this was a terrible, and in many cases fatal, mistake. Runa swung his sword in a lazy arc, neatly decapitating the nearest Elite, as he looked around the compound to get a sense of the progress the others were making. All around the destroyed guns enemies were being picked off, assaulted and killed by seemingly invisible forces as cloaked Elites stabbed their victims with plasma blades. The officers were the first to go, wiped out before they could even do anything, after that only the Grunts and Jackals were left. They started to notice what was going on, a Grunt screaming as it noticed the Jackal next to him fall to the ground, missing his head. Runa flicked his sword through the Grunts chest, silencing the cry. Some of the panicked survivors tried to shoot, tried to fight back, but they were shooting wildly, fear had taken them. They hit nothing, and were swiftly silenced by the invisible killers stalking the compound. Within a few moments the 'battle' was done, the enemy lay dead at their feet, their target destroyed.

"Operative Tarikom here, the objective has been neutralized, you are clear to proceed, we will move up and support the advance." He received an affirmative from command, and set off running through the forest, long loping strides carrying him closer to the central facility the enemy was so desperately protecting. A few minutes into his journey, he heard the familiar whine of engines overhead, looking up to see a flight of Spirit dropships hurtling past, ferrying the assault troops forward to the Forerunner site ahead. Tarikom grinned, it would be pure chaos by the time he got there, the perfect situation for him to ply his trade. He cloaked himself and moved fast across an open field, looking ahead to see the majestic spire of Forerunner architecture rising up from the forest floor, surrounded by the Spirits like little buzzing insects, the sky alight with the glowing beams of weapons fire. The heavy guns on the Spirits were doing their jobs, keeping the enemy suppressed as shock troops descended the grav lifts to storm the compound.

Tarikom jogged through the now undefended gate, nothing but a shimmering shadow as he moved into the fighting. Storm Covenant battled Sangheili warriors, Grunts on each side took potshots at each other, Jackals from Runa's fleet advanced in shield walls as they sent volleys of needles into enemy Elites. It was quite the spectacle. Runa charged in, activating his sword just long enough to cut a Jackal in half before moving on. He idly tossed a grenade up onto a sniper's perch, hearing the Jackals squawk in alarm before being blasted apart as he broke the neck of a Grunt manning a plasma cannon. He walked out around the edge of the fighting, observing his fellow warriors storming the enemy's emplacements, when his comm activated.

"Operative Tarikom, how is the fight?" Runa recognized the voice, it was Field Marshall 'Sarom, commander of the ground forces of the task force. It was he who gave Tarikom his orders for this operation.

"Not much of one I fear." Runa said as he casually sliced through the spine of a Storm Elite unlucky enough to be within arm's reach.

"Then perhaps I can remedy that." 'Sarom growled, "I have a new mission for your team. You are to proceed to these coordinates within the Forerunner structure. We believe that the enemy leader has fled there, into the heart of the structure. It is possible that he intends to make off with important artifacts, or activate something within the structure. Either way, get in and stop him, permanently if you have to. Taking him alive would be preferable so that we may question him, but if he must die, so be it."

"I hear and obey." Runa said. His squad had been listening in on the conversation, so he did not need to repeat himself. They had been performing operations like this for a long time, no special instruction was needed. Their cloak charge nearing zero, they rushed out of the center of the fighting, skulking through shadows while their armor's capacitors recharged, before dispatching the nervous guards outside the spire, and heading inside.

Runa moved more cautiously now, this was not his preferred environment. A SpecOps Elite was practically untouchable in open country, or during frantic combat. Then they were nearly impossible to spot. But in the close quarters of the tunnel their stealth units were much less effective. There was only one way they could advance, and an enemy looking straight down the tunnel at them was likely to pick up the distortions of light passing through the stealth fields. They still had an edge, but it was greatly mitigated here. Thankfully there didn't seem to be that many hostiles in the tunnels, they were likely all committed to the battle outside, but that hardly meant they were alone in here. True enough, Runa caught a blip on the edge of his motion tracker. He slowed down, examining it. It was barely there, a tiny flicker of motion on the edge of the sensor's range, probably around the next turn in the corridor. Runa crept slowly up to the corner, peering around to get a look. It was a guard post alright, fairly standard setup for the Remnant forces. A Grunt sat behind his plasma cannon, Elite pacing nervously behind a hastily erected barricade. Every time one of the defenders moved it set off little ripples on his motion tracker, sloppy.

Runa whispered commands to his subordinates, standard clearing action, nothing fancy. The half dozen Elites confirmed his orders, readying themselves for the attack. Tarikom clipped his sword to his side, drawing the carbine on his back. He leaned around the corner again, aiming for the head of the Grunt gunner. His team started to move into the corridor, moving as quietly as they could, though there was bound to be some noise from the hard floor. The Elite noticed the movement first, a hallway full of motion blur wasn't hard to miss, even if you didn't know exactly what you were looking at. He started to cry alarm, when his gunner suddenly dropped dead. Tarikom switched to the Elite, opening fire as the enemy dived for cover. The shots pinged off the Elite's shields, the warrior leaning out from cover to open fire with his Storm Rifle, stitching plasma fire across one of the advancing SpecOps troopers, his cloak failing under the punishment. Rune growled, a SpecOps Elite without his cloak was in a bad spot, their armor wasn't as protective as most other gear. Thankfully his people responded fast, arcing a grenade around the corner to suppress the enemy, then rushing up to finish him off with a burst of plasma from their own rifle. Rune jogged over to the injured Sangheili, traces of blue blood issuing from the craters in his armor. "Brother, how bad is the injury?"

"It looks worse than it is commander." Grunted the Elite, standing tall, though wincing when he moved. "I am ready to continue the fight.

Runa shook his head, "No, tend to your wounds, we can finish the enemy alone, you have done your part this day."

The operative looked like he wanted to protest, but his sense of honor stayed his words. "As you command, so shall it be." He walked over to sit down on an ammo crate and began to poke at his wounds, wincing as he examined the half-melted craters on his armor.

Runa clipped a fresh magazine into his carbine and continued deeper into the structure, keeping one eye glued to his motion detector as they delved deeper into the ruin. Of course, as with most Forerunner structures, the word 'ruin' hardly described it. The spire was as pristine as the day its makers had left it, every surface shining as though it had just been polished and the age old machinery still in perfect working order. It was as though the Forerunner had just stepped out for the afternoon and were sure to return any moment now. Runa was not a religious Sangheili, but he had to admit to feeling a little awed by the spectacle of ancient power. The team progressed further into the facility, finding no further opposition in their path, something that Runa found increasingly unnerving. As always he was on alert for enemies suddenly leaping form the corners, but there was nothing to be seen. It was one of the more unpleasant sensations he had felt on a mission, the distinct feeling there should be enemies where none exist. Phantoms aside, they met no one on their path into the great machine. A few minutes later Runa felt they were growing very near to their goal, the shape of the machines about them changing, and the corridor widening out into a larger chamber. Tarikom noticed sensor ghosts on the edge of the scanner's range, something was moving out there, likely the target he had been sent after. He activated his cloak and stole into the great chamber in the heart of the machine, his fellows following his lead.

Runa moved as quietly as he could over the hard metal floor, creeping up to one of the strange Forerunner machines which littered the chamber, and peering around it. He saw movement on the far side off the chamber, a figure disappearing behind another of the strange objects which jutted up from the floor. Runa told his Elites to fan out, there was no sense in walking straight into an ambush if one was in the making, he would close with the leader himself with his troops watching his back. Tarikom let his cloak recharge before walking forward, climbing the incline up to where he had seen the figure, and rounding the corner. The walkway ahead of him stretched out and became a bridge, suspended over the rest of the room, rising up to a platform in the exact center of the large chamber. Runa saw the figure again, getting a better look at him. It had to be the enemy leader, his armor too elaborate to denote any lesser rank. He raised his carbine and aimed in, but the figure walked out of sight before he could get a good shot. Just as well, the enemy's shields were likely too strong for the carbine to be effective at this range. He exchanged the firearm for his sword, swiftly climbing the ramp towards the platform.

When he reached it, he saw that atop the platform was some kind of control panel, Forerunner glyphs twisting and merging in the air above the panel. Runa read none of the Forerunner script, that was a skill beyond his ability, though he imagined that the human scientists aboard the Wotan would love to spend a few months staring at them. Perhaps they would get the chance after they secured this place. Runa stepped around the panel to see the figure he was pursuing, raising his hands up from the surface, evidently having just done something to it. He held his hands aloft, offering prayer to the machine before him, before sniffing the air.

"So you come to silence me, to strangle the truth I bring." He said, his voice deep and calm.

Runa deactivated his cloak, his sword flashing into life in his hand. "Only if I have to, I imagine those in the fleet would love to hear your truth, and question you on it in great detail."

"I suspect they do, not that it will do the heretics any good." The other Elite growled, his eyes returning to the device before them. "What I have set into motion here, cannot be undone."

Runa felt unease in his hearts, but none of it showed on his face. "Speak then bastard, tell me what you have done here."

The enemy glanced at him, huffing out a little laugh. "I may as well, it is as much for you as it is for me. This place, this blessed place, is where the Forerunners perfected their ultimate power. It was here, at the closing of the last age, that they transcended unto godhood." He ran a loving hand over the device before him, "This temple is a gateway, a road leading up to the heavens themselves, it is the first lighthouse upon the path to perfection. Rejoice my brother, for the Great Journey begins."

Runa tightened the grip on his sword. "The Journey is a lie, it always has been. If you still cling to the falsehoods of the Prophets then you are more fool than I thought!"

The enemy spared him an annoyed glance. "Such words are often spoken by the ignorant in the face of divine providence. I have read the scripture inscribed in this place, searched long and hard for it, this is the correct place, and the correct time. Here the gateway to the next world can be opened. Correction, will open, shortly. The Great Journey is upon us, and the faithful will be rewarded, even you are welcome in out glorious company, if you find it within your hearts to follow us upon the path."

Runa snorted, "The only path you are set on is being dragged back to the brig, after that I suspect your path becomes very short. I tire of your words, come along now. Or shall I cut off your limbs and carry you?"

The other Elite gave him an infuriatingly pious glare. "Very well brother, your fate is sealed, I had hoped that… Ah, it begins."

Runa took one step, when he heard the hum, rising low through the chamber and causing the platform to vibrate. He snapped up his sword, force of habit, and scanned the room, looking for the source of the sound. After a moment, he realized that the source was the room itself, the entire structure was shifting and changing, rearranging itself in ways Runa could scarcely comprehend. "What have you done!" he shouted, putting his sword to the Elite's throat. The other did not attack, simply sank down onto his knees, his hands raised in salutation.

"I have opened the path to salvation, the Great Journey has begun." He then began to recite the Writ of Union, "On the blood of our fathers, on the blood of our sons…" Runa grimaced and neatly cut his head off, kicking the corpse off the platform.

"Spill your own damned blood." He spat after the corpse, before running down off the platform, shouting to his men to escape the rapidly brightening room.

Runa raced through the corridors, which were now humming with that one pure note. He nearly grabbed the wounded soldier in the tunnel and carried him along he was so high on adrenaline, racing along through the corridor to reach the exit. "Fieldmaster, this is operative Tarikom, something is happening in the Forerunner structure, the enemy leader did something before we got here, activated some device! Hello, Fieldmaster! Damn!" Whatever was going on he couldn't contact the fleet, his comm was awash with static, he could hear nothing. He double timed it, whatever was going on he didn't think being inside the facility when it happened was a good idea, he could feel static electricity crackling over his skin, making it crawl like he was covered in insects. Finally he escaped the confines of the tower, looking around at the darkened landscape. The battle outside was well and truly finished, of the enemy only the dead remained. His fellow Elites seemed to be having the same problems with their communications that Runa was, many of them were smacking their helmets angrily or looking to the sky. One Major ran over to him, a worried look on his face.

"Sir, what is going on here? We have lost all contact with the fleet!"

Runa shrugged, angry he had no good answer for the Major. "I am unsure warrior, the enemy had done something with the tower, it is activating somehow. Whatever it is doing I advise we clear the area at all possible speed, gather your men and get them into the woods!" The Major nodded sharply, bellowing orders in a voice like thunder, as the troops quickly turned around and started running into the woods. They needed little encouragement to get away from a giant Forerunner tower that was making ominous noises and, lighting up? Runa glanced over his shoulder to look at the tower, seeing a blue glow racing up the sides, bright lines of energy arcing across its surface. Vines and vegetation flash ignited and dropped away as the ancient machine roared into life again, after so many eons of sitting silent. Suddenly, the energy discharged, a bright blue beam firing up into the heavens. From around the forest a multitude of other beams joined in, smaller ones arcing up to meet their larger brother high in space over the planet. Runa craned his neck back, trying to follow them, squinting into the night sky to find the point where the met. At first, there was but a pinprick of light, the meeting point of the beams. But then, as the beams continued to feed the spot it slowly grew. Before his eyes the tiny star blossomed outward like some great shining flower in the night sky, its outer edges glowing bright against the black of space. The vortex yawned open, directly before the Sangheili fleet in orbit. "Oh shit." Runa breathed. Suddenly, his comm came alight with panicked cries as the voices of his brothers finally came through.

"Yes, yes hello? This is operative Tarikom on the ground, who is this? What! I don't care about that, my people down here need extraction! Listen to me, I am here with most of the ground forces near the primary tower, yes that one, we need immediate extraction! I don't care if you have to dangle a rope down from the ship, get us out of here! Thank you, I knew you would see things my way." Runa deactivated his comm, cursing whoever put that idiot in charge of flight coordination. For how dramatic the beam itself was, it didn't seem to be causing any damage to them on the ground. Apart from annoying static on their communications channels it didn't seem to have any real effect on them. Not that he suspected it was the same up in orbit, the yawning portal to, somewhere hovering overhead seemed to indicate otherwise. But that was an issue he could deal with once his Elites were safely aboard the fleet, or at least let other people deal with. True to his assurances, a group of Spirit dropships came humming down a few minutes later, taking aboard his men. He stepped off of the grav lift and walked across the troop bay to the cockpit, leaning through the doors. "We are aboard pilot, get us to the fleet."

"Not yet sir, we have more pickups down there." The pilot said, turning the craft about and racing over the canopy.

Runa looked over his shoulder at the nearly full troop bay. "The ship is almost full pilot, how many are we taking?"

"Everyone who needs a lift." The pilot said simply, his eyes on his controls.

Runa shrugged, he supposed the pilot had to know what he was doing, otherwise he wouldn't have this job. There were few places to sit in the gunship, and those seats that were there were occupied by the wounded. So he simply stood, holding onto the rails across the ceiling as they glided smoothly over the treetops, finally coming to a stop above a wrecked enemy outpost. The hatches snapped open, grav lifts activating, and a few seconds later Jackals started pouring into the ship, leaping sideways to clear the way for their brethren. Runa frowned, they were small creatures but there were so damned many of them! He wondered if they would all fit. The last one up was one of the rarer breeds, a Skirmisher decked out in human weapons and armor, squawking at his fellows in their native tongue. After ensuring that his people were aboard the Skirmisher called up to the cockpit. "That's everyone, now go!" The pilot looked annoyed at being given orders by a Kig-Yar, and one from the Confederacy at that, but he knew his job so he did it. Runa looked at the shorter creature, noting with some distaste the pouches and backpack bulging with loot. "Do you lead this… detachment?" He asked, as politely as he could manage.

"Yes, these are my troops. Thanks for the ride, our ship was forced to abandon its position when the battle moved towards it and was unable to send relief. My name is Seth, by the way, Seth Zakrin." The Skirmisher waved his hand a little, before returning it to the grip of his rifle. Runa nodded. "We are always glad to render assistance to our allies, I am pleased we were able to fit you and your belongings aboard." He glanced slightly at a few of the Jackals in the back of the bay, who had sat down in a little circle on the floor and were rummaging through their packs, comparing loot. Seth shrugged, "Thankfully I convinced them to not try and bring the plasma coils, I thought you would find that annoying." Runa did. He grimaced, looking at the looters standing in the bay. He made a mental not to keep a firm grip on his gear until they were out of this dropship. Thankfully they seemed to be going up now, racing up through the atmosphere towards the waiting fleet in orbit. What was less reassuring was the increasing turbulence as they increased in altitude. Turbulence was nothing new to him of course, but usually the turbulence stopped when you got out of the atmosphere, but now it was increasing as they rose from the atmosphere. Runa walked up to the cockpit, leaning through the doors. "What's going on? It's getting a bit rough."

"I am aware of that." The pilot said, checking his controls again. "There's something pulling on us up here, I think it's that, thing, the beams created." Runa looked out the window, seeing the great rupture in space pulsating over the planet, the great rip twisting and pulsing. "I think it's pulling on the other ships as well!" The cruisers seemed to be wobbling in space, the vessels igniting their engines as they attempted to push away from the rift. "That thing is generating a gravity well, we're being pulled towards it, I'll try to get us to that cruiser!" The pilot said, grunting as he fought with his controls. The pilot seemed to be skilled enough, arcing them towards the docking bay of a nearby cruiser. The constantly changing pull of the rift didn't make it easy, it yanked at the craft and pulled it off course a few times, the pilot having to fight his craft all the way in. They shot through the shields on the bay, just barely managing to stop ahead of the wall, settling gently down onto the floor. The pilot sank back onto his chair, letting out a relieved breath. "We made it sir." Runa felt a tremor run through the decks below him. "I hope so." He said, exiting the dropship.

He walked quickly across the docking bay, going to speak with the officer in charge of the bay. "Brother, what befalls the fleet?"

The other Elite turned to look at him, listening to something nervously on his radio before speaking. "Something most grave I fear, our ships are being pulled towards the anomaly created over the planet, thus far I do not think we have been able to break free."

"Could we be… pulled through it?" Runa asked, not wanting to contemplate that too much.

"Possibly, if we are unable to break its hold on us. We are maneuvering to push against it with our main engines. Please excuse me, I have my duties to attend to!" The Elite ran off, coordinating with the other smaller ships trying to find refuge on the larger vessels. Runa looked out through the docking bay shield at the yawning vortex of energy that had formed over the planet. Nestled within the heart of the roiling energy was a pure black sphere into which all light seemed to be absorbed. A shiver ran up his spine, and he hoped the engines would hold. The ship rotated around to point its engines at the rift and engaged them, reverberations running through the deck plates. Runa Tarikom felt ice clutch at his hearts, as he realized they weren't moving.

Meanwhile, aboard the Wotan…

Captain Warren Roberts stood, as he was wont to do, before the great holoprojector which dominated the Wotan's bridge. He was an older man, his neatly trimmed beard starting to go gray, as was the hair beneath his uniform cap. He carried his age well though, forcing himself to keep in good shape and maintain his youthful energy. Of course the gene mods helped with that, despite his cosmetic appearance he felt ten years younger than he had any right to. Physically at least, sometimes this job made him feel very old indeed. He stood over the projector, watching the other ships moving in the system, the planets slowly revolving around their star. His hands clasped behind his back, Roberts looked as though he was studying the display in great detail. Actually he was considering the current deployment of his ship, though it was good to keep up an appearance of constant vigilance for the men. Roberts did not like how his ship had been treated lately. Patrolling the inner planets, running relief supplies out to colonies and most recently parking in orbit for two weeks to run ground combat wargames for every species with a military. Roberts was glad that his ship was being helpful, but he yearned for a little more than this. His ship, the pride of humanity, was being used as a propaganda piece, making big flashy tours through safe space for the benefit of newscasts. When a human population center was told the Wotan was flying through their system morale soared, everyone got proud and patriotic about what a great achievement the UNSC had accomplished, what a feat of engineering, what a display of skill! He felt like a visiting dignitary who was forever trapped in a reception parade, driving past the crowds of cheering citizens, politely waving and smiling, never actually doing anything. And when they reached the end the car simply turned around and the whole parade started over again. He wondered if the Wotan and its crew would ever see any real action, or if they were forever condemned to this purgatory of polite appearances.

Not that he wanted another war, far from it. Roberts was a firm believer in the notion that the greatest sword was one which was never drawn in anger. But a sword should be kept ready and waiting, not waved about in the air so gawking crowds can marvel at its sheen. Wotan was a warship, the greatest ever to fly under a human banner, perhaps the greatest to fly since the Forerunners had gone the way of the Dodo. It deserved more than this, it should be out on the rim of civilized space guarding against Brute war bands or Storm Covenant terrorists, not puttering around settled space doing goodwill tours. When he had come aboard this ship for the first time, Captain Roberts had sworn that he would do great things with this ship. He cared not if his own name was forgotten by history, but if he had anything to say about it 'Wotan' would be one that would echo in the minds of naval historians for a century. Thus far, he had not gotten the chance to make good on that oath. He let out a heavy sigh, turning away from the display and walking to his chair. "How go the games?" He asked his XO.

Lieutenant Pressley turned in his chair, checking a readout at his workstation. "Well enough, the Army and the Marines are duking it out right now, full on force on force battle in the combat deck.

"Who's winning?" Roberts asked.

"The Spartans." Pressley replied.

"They're not fighting." Roberts replied.

"Exactly, the Devil Dogs and the ground pounders are ripping each other apart, it's a bloodbath down there."

Roberts shook his head, resisting the urge to call up the video feed just to have something to watch. It would be unprofessional looking, and he could always watch a recording later. "Fockewulf." He said, the AI's avatar materializing on the tiny plinth at his chair.

"Yes sir?" He asked, standing at attention with his hand on his sword hilt.

"Any major events I should be aware of?" Roberts knew the AI wouldn't have anything to tell him, if he did Fockewulf would have already said something. He asked because it gave him something to do, and truth be told the eccentric AI was usually entertaining to talk to.

"Nothing major sir, only your usual rowdiness when you get multiple branches of the armed forces together in a confined space. There's been a significant prank war between every different faction on the ship, yesterday the Air Force jocks ambushed some Marines with water balloons filled with bright pink dye, and the Army replaced a large number of Navy technical manuals with Hunter poetry collections."

"How was the poetry?" Roberts asked, feeling a little cheered by the holographic swordsman.

"Too much rumination on soil for my liking Captain, though they do a fine job with battle imagery. Not all their senses translate properly though, it's hard to connect to a vivid description of the vibration of a tank thirty feet away. Other than that sir there is little going on, it seems we have a nice long schedule of sitting here doing nothing."

"It must be torture for you." Roberts observed. He was bored out of his skull and the AI could think a thousand times faster than he could.

Fockewulf shrugged. "I'm taking the opportunity to catch up on some reading, the Sangheili have an interesting literary tradition. We don't often have Sangheili ships lingering nearby or their people aboard so I swapped book files with a few of them. Fairly interesting reading I must say. Also, I've resorted to making amusing shapes in the clouds on the combat deck. I think this is a new low for me. I've almost been desperate enough to…" Roberts heard a fluttering sound, a moment later a raven landed on Fockewulf's shoulder. He leaned over, the blackbird whispering in his ear. When he looked back his expression was deadly serious. "Sir, there's a problem. I just received a communication from the Sangheili fleet that departed here yesterday, they've run into trouble on their mission and are calling for help." Roberts sat up in his chair, it was not often the proud aliens called for help, especially from humans. "They were tasked with taking a Forerunner structure taken by the Storm Covenant, and they've run into a serious complication. The site is active, and is creating some form of anomaly above the planet. This anomaly is creating severe gravimetric disturbances and seems to be pulling the Sangheili ships into it. They are trapped in the gravity well and are beginning to take damage, they want our help to get their people out.

Roberts rubbed his brow, considering the situation. "What's our ETA at maximum speed?"

"Two hours sir if we gun it." The AI replied.

"How long do the Sangheili have?"

The AI considered, "I'd say about two and a half to three hours before their engines start to go, they can't take the continual strain of pushing against that gravity well, they're redlining as it is."

"What can we do to help?" Roberts asked, he needed a plan of action.

"Not sure sir, destroying the emitters on the ground creating the disturbance might shut it, or it might make it worse I really can't say. Also, our engines are more powerful than the Sangheili's we could move through the gravity well and get out, though that's a risk."

"And we don't have time to offload the troops currently aboard, by the time they were halfway off the Elites would be dead already."

"That sums it up nicely sir." Fockewulf said, "Your orders?"

Roberts closed his eyes, considering for three heartbeats. "Fockewulf, set intercept course with the Sangheili detachment, we're going in!"

"Aye sir!" The AI shouted, wheeling about to look at the main display. The ship was far too big for him to feel the movement, but he watched as the engines flared into life and they started to push off from the planet, shrugging off the gravitational pull like a wet coat. "Ground control is protesting sir." Fockewulf said, grinning.

"Answer them in kind." Roberts replied, "Inform the crew and passengers of the situation, but let the Marines and Army finish their exercise, no use trying to come between them now." The AI nodded, his voice instantly sounding throughout the ship, bringing them up to speed on the situation. Captain Roberts interlaced his fingers together in front of him, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair. The swirling maw of slipspace opened up before them and the ship disappeared into it, racing to the aid of a onetime enemy. Roberts wondered if this was just a mission of mercy, or if fate had larger plans in store. One way or another, he would make sure the name 'Wotan' would be remembered for this.

In a darker universe…

Gaius did not like disappointing Inquisitor Graves. Part of it was the Inquisitor himself. In a world of self-serving cowards and backstabbing rogues Tyburn Graves was a man who tried to live up to the legends told about his order. He was a noble man, a strong man, a man of honor. Regardless of his rank, Tyburn Graves was a man Gaius would have been willing to follow to the Eye of Terror if it would help the Imperium, the man would have made a fine Ultramarine had he been born within the realm of Ultramar. So half of his sentiment was due to wishing to fully perform his duties to so noble a man. The other half, was his own pride. Gaius was not accustomed to failure. He had been in losing battles, no warrior who survived as many fight as he did could claim to never know defeat. But defeat was often due to many more factors than Gaius' skill alone. Perhaps an ally had faltered, or the enemy was more strong than expected. Perhaps the enemy was in a better position, or the weather was not favorable or your backup was late. Simple fate, random chance carried more battles than Gaius would like to admit. But this affair with the artifact was not simply defeat, it was failure. A personal failure on Gaius' part. He authorized the plan which led to the destruction of the town and loss of the artifact. He was unable to lead his squad to victory against the wretched xeno spawn which had appeared to combat him. He had not been enough of a Marine to win the day in the name of the Emperor. For the first time in his long career, the fault of defeat, and the burden of retribution fell entirely upon Gaius' shoulders. It was not a burden he wished to bear for long, so he committed all his ability towards uncovering the truth behind the mysterious obelisk.

Right now, that effort had him sitting in the ship's library, power-reading through a stack of illuminated manuscripts. "Tell me brother, how exactly does this help? I do not doubt your abilities, but is this not a task for Inquisitors?" Gaius looked up from his reading, Ulrich sitting across the table, a goblet of mead in his hand.

"As my armor is tended to and I have already practiced the rights of combat today, I have nothing more to occupy my time, so I am assisting the Inquisitor in researching the artifact." He said, flipping the page on the ancient text he was reading. Ulrich leaned in, peering at the aged parchment.

"And what exactly is that?" He asked.

Gaius frowned, "It is a description of various minor xeno races and their technologies, I am hoping to find a correlation between anything in this book and the appearance of the artifact and the creatures which defended it."

Ulrich nodded, "Because if you find something that looks similar then you can get an idea who built the object?"

Gaius nodded. "Indeed, then we can get some idea of who made it, when it might have been made, and where. Even if we do not know the object's function, knowing the identity of the race who made it would be a great boon in any attempt to understand it."

Ulrich nodded again, looking down at the illuminated drawings on the page. "Any luck so far?"

Gaius closed the book, adding it to the depressingly large pile of volumes that had proven useless. "No, unfortunately not. I have never heard of, nor seen, nor read or, nor encountered any reference to anything like the object we saw, or the beings which were summoned to defend it. The weapons, appearance and abilities of those monsters was something completely and totally outside my experience, or that of any Astartes I have ever spoken with. Which, in and of itself, is an important piece of information."

"Because it implies this is the work of someone we have never encountered before?" Ulrich reasoned.

"Precisely!" Gaius said, pulling over another tome and opening it, "If that is the case, then it is either a new race making their first inroads into Imperial territory, or the relic of an old race, traces of which we have not encountered previously. Given that the artifact was unearthed in a mine deep below the planet's surface, I suspect the second possibility is more likely. In all likelihood this was a relic left buried here by some race which visited this world in ages past, of whom little or no other traces remain."

Ulrich was following along, "Which raises the issue that their warriors were able to rise again to defend the object even after all this time. It concerns me that such a fighting force had lain dormant for so long, we hardly need another group of Necrons running about the galaxy making a mess of things."

Gaius shook his head, leafing through the book, still finding nothing. "Hardly, which is why we need to identify whether the race behind this object is a major threat, or whether the incident earlier is simply the echoes of a race long dead. In either case, I intend to find the answers."

Ulrich looked over to his pile of books, sighing before sitting down and grabbing a volume, flipping through it with a look of intense disinterest, though Gaius knew he was actually paying attention. As informal as the Wolf might be, he was a Space Marine under all those furs and totems, and that meant a certain discipline and duty that few outside their chapters could comprehend, much less find within themselves. They had scarcely gotten through half of their respective books before the voice of their ship's captain sounded over the intercom. "Attention, senior staff to the bridge, this is an emergency!" Ulrich looked to Gaius, putting the book aside. "Not that this isn't interesting, but we should go!" Gaius nodded sharply, rising from his bench and making for the bridge with all due haste.

They emerged onto the bridge of the Holy Reckoning a few minutes later, seeing that Inquisitor Graves was already there. Gaius heard the thump of Marine footfalls behind him, hearing Mendoza's voice as he came into the room. "What is the alarm about?" He asked. Gaius did not answer him, he was too busy staring at what, beyond all doubt, had caused the alarm. It was as though a great blue-white flower had opened in space, the petals twisting and spinning around a core of solid black. Pulsing lines of energy ran out of the center, sending little vapor trails out into space. Inquisitor Graves was standing by the front window of the bridge, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed at the strange emission forming over the planet. "Auspex, what can you tell me?" He asked, without turning. The operator poured over his workstation, examining the parchment feeding out of the scanner device, "Very little my lord. The… disturbance is emitting a steady flow of radiation, nothing that is dangerous inside the ship, and appears to have stopped growing in size. The large flare you are seeing is a side effect, the actual event is the black central, well, object is not the right word. If these readings are accurate, that event in the center has no mass, it is not a physical object of any form."

Graves stroked his beard, considering. "Then what exactly is it, and more importantly what is causing it?"

"Unknown milord, the effect is emitting astounding levels of energy, though it does not seem to be absorbing any from the surrounding environment. I would say that it was being generated by something within the anomaly itself, but as I said there is no mass within the center of the disturbance."

"So there is nothing there?" Gaius asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

The auspex operator bowed low as he walked past. "Not entirely nothing milord. While there is no mass that I can detect within the sphere, I am getting something, radio waves that appear too ordered to be artificial."

"Communication?" Graves asked, walking swiftly over to the auspex station to observe the printout himself.

"Possibly milord, but it is so garbled I cannot discern anything from it. I would not want to theorize as to the exact nature of this anomaly milord."

"That is where I come in!" said a somewhat tinny voice behind Gaius. A figure in long red robes stepped through the doorway onto the bridge, the cogwheel sign of the Adeptus Mechanicus prominent on his chest. It was Magos Edriton, one of Grave's retinue and his technical consultant. "No need to brief me, I was listening in over the vox as I hurried here. The nature of the anomaly seems to indicate that it is receiving energy from an outside source, through unknown means. Cross referencing this with the account of Techmarine Xavier on the artifact from the planet, I conclude they operate on similar principles, transmitting energy through, well, some medium I am unaware of at this time. Given that some form of radio communication is coming through that anomaly, I would conclude that it is some form of portal, being generated here by transmitting energy from another place, or even perhaps another time, though I would scarcely want to theorize that wildly."

Graves frowned. "You're saying someone could come through that thing?"

Edriton nodded, "A great many someones, considering the size of that portal." Then he seemed to realize the weight of what he had just said. "Oh my, that's quite frightening actually."

Graves did not bother to respond, turning to face the vox console. "Contact the System Defense Force, tell them to get every armed ship they can within range of that disturbance, it is likely this system is under threat of invasion by an unknown force. And move us in as well, arm for combat." The bridge launched into a flurry of activity, crewmen and officers moving to carry out the Inquisitor's orders. Guns were loaded, torpedo tubes armed, the ships engines fired up and started pushing the vessel towards the disturbance in space. The 'Reckoning was a fine ship, measuring some two kilometers in length. It was hardly the most powerful ship the Inquisitor had access to, but he preferred something more subtle than a battleship for conducting most of his business. Though small, the 'Reckoning had an able weapons compliment, and a fine crew. It had always served them well. They accelerated towards the disturbance, everything seeming to go well at first, then Gaius saw their bow slipping away from the anomaly ahead of them. The ship corrected course towards the black heart, but it swung in the other direction this time. "I cannot hold course!" The helmsman cried, "That anomaly is pushing us back, some form of inverse gravity well, I can't push through it."

Inquisitor Graves stroked his beard again, thin

g. "Then we sit and wait." He concluded. "for our guests to arrive."

Aboard a Sangheili cruiser…

Seth nervously tapped his talons on the side of his rifle. He was sitting in the landing bay of the cruiser the Elite's dropship had brought him to, wondering just how bad the situation was. Of course the Elites had been 'handling' the situation hours ago, and the situation was unchanged now. Whatever Forerunner meddling had created this rip in space had them stuck fast like insects in sap, unable to move but unable to stop struggling lest they drown. Seth tapped his taloned toes on the deck plating, listening to the noise of the engines. The Elites around him didn't seem so concerned, but they didn't have the upbringing Seth had. These Elites were simply guests on ships, Seth had lived on ships for most of his life, they were his home, and he knew the sounds a healthy engine made, and the ones a dying engine made. Right now, the engine of this cruiser was singing its death song, struggling beyond its limits to try and keep the ship from tumbling down into the gravity well of the anomaly behind them. Seth continued tapping his claws, wishing he had some music to listen to, or something to pass the time. Whether he would live or not was out of his hands right now, he just wished he didn't have to sit around waiting for something to happen.

After a few minutes more he saw the SpecOps Elite from earlier walked over, sitting down on a crate a few feet from Seth. "Sticking close to the dropships too?" Seth asked, eying the Elite. Sangheili tended to look down on Kig-Yar, thought they were nothing but worthless scavengers. Seth always took offense at that, he was far from worthless.

"I may be needed." The Elite said, holding himself high.

"You don't need to keep up appearances for me Sangheili, I'm not exactly feeling very confident right now myself. Trusting my life to these navy types, never sat well with me."

The Elite shifted in place. "I am somewhat uneasy. We have been hanging here far too long, something should happen, either for good or ill I care not, but this waiting is intolerable."

"I know, I know! I can't stand just sitting here and waiting, no news or action, just sitting and polishing my rifle." Seth shook his head, trying to not think about the hole in space opening up behind him.

The Elite was about to say something, when a voice cut over the intercom. "Attention all hands, this is the shipmaster, prepare to offload crew, the UNSC has sent a ship to aid us. The engines are about to fail, get to the dropship bays as quickly as you are able."

Seth looked over at Runa, Runa looked at Seth. Then they both scrambled to their feet and began running for the Spirits, hollering for their men to follow. One way or another, it looked like the waiting was over.

The other soldiers in the hangar piled into the Spirit, the flight crew having waited in the ship for this opportunity to come. "Hold on back there, we are allowing the human ship to move in close, then we will move over to them."

Seth packed himself into a corner, looking out the open side doors of the Spirit and through the shield of the bay. He was grateful that the UNSC had sent a ship to aid them, but he wondered how well they would fare. If ships made by the Covenant were unable to contend with the disturbance, what hope would a human ship have? Then again, the humans had made impressive inroads recently, so perhaps there was a chance. He watched the bay, waiting in horrified anticipation for something to happen, then he saw the flare of a massive set of engines move past the bay, frighteningly close. After that a great mass of gunmetal gray plating moved past the bay, eclipsing the cruiser with its mass. After that he saw no more, the side doors slamming shut and the Spirit lifting off. The pilot pointed the sturdy little craft towards the human ship and slammed the throttle forward, racing out of the bay. Seth could see nothing, only felt the shock and turbulence as the gravimetric disturbance pulled at their ship, yanking them off course. But it seemed that only lasted a moment, once they were within the shields of the human ship they were protected from the emissions, darting into the open bay where the doors flew open again.

"Everyone out!" The pilot cried, "I have to get back for another load!"

Seth leaped clear over the heads of the Sangheili as they exited the troop bay, landing with a skitter on the decking. He looked around in awe at the huge landing bay, seeing the human gunships lifting off to race over to the Sangheili ship, Spirits dropping off their loads before turning around. The other Kig-Yar walked over to him, looking to him for leadership. Seth held his head tall, the Skirmisher leading them across the bay to where a group of humans had assembled near the doors out of the bay. "Seth Zakrin of the Kig-Yar Confederacy." He introduced himself in passable English, "Thanks for the ride."

The human nodded. "Our pleasure Mr. Zakrin, welcome aboard the UNSC Wotan. Please come with me, I'll show you people to a waiting room while we bring in more rescues."

Seth nodded, following the human out the door and eventually to a lounge of some form. He sat down on one of the chairs, thankfully about the right size for him, placing his pack and rifle next to him. Again, one way or another, his life was in the hands of someone else. He only hoped they were up to the task.

On the bridge of the Wotan, Captain Roberts stood before the holotable, hands clasped behind his back. "First load is aboard Captain, continuing the evacuation." Fockewulf said, standing on the main display table.

"Thank you, carry on." Roberts said, looking at the display. Thankfully the disaster was not as bad as he had thought, some of the Sangheili ships had managed to escape the anomaly's effects, burning out their engines to push their way out of the gravity well. But a few ships, the largest of which was this cruiser, were firmly stick in the center of the area of effect. The Wotan was right in the middle of them now, ferrying as many individuals over from the stricken ships as possible, fighting against time to save as many as they could. The Pelicans and Spirits flying between the ships were loaded to the gunnels with personnel, standing room only as they ferried troops to the Wotan. Roberts smacked a hand into his palm, nervous despite his attempts to keep calm. He had purposefully flown his ship into harm's way, on a mission of mercy. Standing here now, Roberts couldn't think that this was the wrong choice. He only needed to ask himself what he would want another to do in his place, if it were his ship trapped in that gravity well, and his crew facing almost certain death. Though he suspected that there were some in the fleet, or lurking in ONI, who would gladly have his career for rushing to the aid of aliens. In his opinion those people were not fit to shine the boots of his ensigns, though it was hardly advisable to say such things where anyone could hear you.

He stood there, before the display, watching the little blips that were the dropships running between the Wotan and the smaller ships around it, each one bringing at least a dozen aliens aboard where they were slightly safer. "Fockewulf, estimated time to completion?"

Not long sir, the sheer number of dropships in the air mean that we're moving people pretty fast, though the issue isn't how long we can stay here, it's how long until… oh damnit." The AI cursed, as Roberts watched, horrified as one of the holographic ships flashed, its engines disintegrating as the stricken ship tumbled end over end, the gravity well tearing it apart as it fell. The chunks of burning ship slammed into the petals extending around the portal, where they were ripped apart and sucked through. Fockewulf bowed his head, his eyes closed. "Nobody made it out of that captain, no one could."

Roberts cursed, they were running out of time.

"Captain, evacuation complete on one of the ships, it's on autopilot now, but its engines should be going up soon." A moment after he had finished his statement, one of the smaller ships detonated, the back third of the ship shearing off as its reactor brewed up. Again the corpse of the warship tilted over and tumbled into the roiling maw of the disturbance. Anything that touched the wake of the petals was obliterated, anything that fell through the black sphere in the center simply vanished. A few minutes later another ship was left empty, falling back towards the gravity well, a few dozen more souls saved from destruction. That only left the cruiser beside them.

"How long until we finish with that cruiser?" Roberts demanded, his palms sweating where they were clasped behind his back.

"Not sure sir, we're not entirely certain how many are still aboard. We don't have much longer though, that cruiser's engines are about ready to go, I wouldn't be surprised if, wait… Sir, it's going now!"

"Get the ships out of there!" Roberts shouted.

"Already done!" Fockewulf assured him, looking at the holographic cruiser. The engines flared, and engulfed themselves in fire, the chain of explosions running up the ship, gutting it from the inside. Fockewulf hung his head. "Not all our ships made it out sir, I'm sorry."

Roberts nodded, there would be time to grieve when the ship was out of danger. "Can we get out now?"

Fockewulf looked at the display, "Captain the cruiser is going to hit us!"

Captain Roberts looked at the display, seeing the corpse of the cruiser wallowing sideways, its bow moments from cleaving into the Wotan's side like a sword. "Divert power to shields, move us over!" As soon as the words left his mouth Fockewulf threw the power across the ship, diverting power from the engines to the shields, thrust vectoring to slide the great ship sideways, blunting the blow. But what a blow it was. The Cruiser slammed into the side of the Wotan, rocking the warship in place, the cruiser fragmenting on the shields before tumbling back down into the yawning abyss.

"Now get us out of here!" Roberts ordered, steadying himself against the holo table.

"Sir, I cannot." Fockewulf said, gravely.

"Explain, now." The captain said tersely.

"I had to divert energy from the engines to strengthen the shields to survive that hit, and we lost momentum in that impact as well. We've fallen down the gravity well and are under increased gravimetric stress. Our engines are not powerful enough to get us out of the pull. I'm sorry captain, we're stuck here."  
Captain Roberts felt ice in his belly, as he looked at the hologram of the anomaly below them. "There is no way to escape?" He asked, just in case the AI made a mistake, not that that usually happened.

"No sir, at the present strength of the well, our engines will explode long before we have the strength to pull us out. I have us holding station for the moment, but it's only a matter of time before what happened to the Sangheili happens to us."

"Only this time there isn't someone with more powerful engines to pull us out." Roberts said, rubbing his brow to keep his cold sweat from running into his eyes. "There's no way out." He looked down at the yawning black sphere nestled at the center of the disturbance, which the wreckage just passed through. "Fockewulf, bring us about."

The AI took three full seconds to respond, staring into space blankly before he looked to the captain. "Sir, can you confirm that? I thought you said you wanted to turn around, but there must be a glitch in the bridge's audio receptors."

"You heard me damnit, bring us about! Full 180." Roberts ordered, sitting down on his chair and strapping in.

"Care to explain sir, for the crews sake, not me." Fockewulf said, looking as nervous as an AI can be.

"If you're at sea and you see a big wave coming you turn into it." Roberts explained, "Same principle here. All the debris passing through the center sphere of that anomaly as simply vanished, anything touching those shockwaves has been destroyed. We can't survive here, we can't get out, we can't go through those energy curtains, so we have only one course left. Into that anomaly, right through the eye of the storm."

"Sir, based on my analysis, that anomaly is some form of slipspace portal, not unlike the one leading from Earth to the Ark, but the energy being expended here is exponentially greater, I have absolutely no idea where it leads or if we can even get back."

"I'm counting on that being a portal. As to where it leads anywhere but here is looking pretty good right now, so take us in!"

Fockewulf nodded, then again with more confidence. "Aye sir, right into the eye of the storm!" He reached out, the wheel of an imaginary ship springing into his hands, as holographic storm winds blew about him. "All hands brace yourselves!" He shouted, his voice echoing from every speaker on the ship, "We are going in!"

The vast ship turned, the gravimetric shear pulling at it lengthwise, making the whole ship shudder and shake. Once they were turned around however it smoothed out, the gravity well pulling the ship straight down, the engines working with the flow, rather than fighting against it. They raced down, the petals of flowing energy filling the viewscreen, soon engulfed by the black sphere, they were racing down into it, were they already inside? No, they weren't but then suddenly the bow on the video screen vanished, a millisecond later the rest of the ship vanished with it.

They hung there in limbo for who knows how long. It seemed like a second, but it also felt like a thousand years, there was no way to be sure. Then suddenly they were out, spat out of the anomaly with as much force as they had been pulled into it. Roberts sucked in a deep breath, the recycled ship's air never tasting so sweet. Then he heard the sound of a sword leaving its scabbard. "Captain!" Fockewulf shouted, "We've got trouble!"

Not that far away…

Inquisitor Graves looked out the front viewport of his ship, examining the yawning anomaly in space before him, as though the naked eye could tell him more than every auspex on the ship. He continued watching as the minutes ticked by, the scrambled radio transmissions from the other side of the portal being played over the speakers at his request. He felt that he could hear some pattern to it, perhaps a word just on the edge of audibility over all the white noise, but like a memory you just couldn't grasp it remained tantalizingly out of reach. Then he heard the auspex operator speak up. "Sir, something is coming through the disturbance!"

"Identify!" He ordered, looking at the hololith on the bridge, a somewhat jumpy holo image of the anomaly displayed there. True enough there was some bits of matter flying out of the anomaly.

"It appears to be debris sir, nothing intact, no life or power as far as I can see."

The operator appeared to be correct, there were no parts there large enough to be a ship, and it did not appear to be weaponry of some form. He had to wonder what exactly was going on across the portal, that would cause wreckage to be floating through. This continued for several minutes, the volume of wreckage being flung out of the anomaly increasing. It was being accelerated by the inverted gravity well of the anomaly, flinging the debris towards the planet below where it would burn up and be destroyed. It was a great shame, but he could not afford to move the only armed ship close enough to intervene out of position to collect the salvage, with any luck some would fall into a semi-stable orbit so he could retrieve it later. Suddenly though his heart leaped into his throat, though externally he showed no sign of emotion, as something that was decidedly not wreckage came tearing through the portal. It was a ship, a long, thick ship. Its wide engines slowly tapering down along lines of sloped armor to a stubby prow. "Analyze that ship!" He cried, running to the auspex operator who worked frantically to comply. The Magos ran over just as fast, the two of them leaning over the rushing operators shoulders as they stared at his screens and printouts.

"Sirs! The ship is approximately twenty kilometers in length, nothing that I recognize as weaponry from this range, and is moving under power, at this time there is nothing else I can say sirs!"

Graves stood from the terrified operator, shouting to the captain. "Pursuit course now, tell the SDF to get on it as well, get us over there and acquire a weapons lock!"

"Yes milord!" The captain acknowledged, shouting orders over the ship's vox. The sleep Imperial ship turned about and flared its engines, launching after the intruder.

Within the Wotan…

Fockewulf ran a systems check the nanosecond they emerged from the portal. Satisfied he was in working order, he turned his attention to the rest of the ship, assessing the damage they had incurred in the transition. Thankfully it seemed the portal itself had caused no damage, although light to moderate repairs would be needed across several sections of the ship. Satisfied then that the Wotan was in as good a condition as it had any right to be, he turned his electronic gaze outwards to the area of space they were currently in. To his surprise they were in a star system. This seemed to disprove the notion that the exit point was random, as the chance of randomly picking a point in a stellar system was astronomically small. Not only that, but they were near a planet as well, a fairly sizable planet at that, one that could support life.

Correction, one that did support life.

Fockewulf activated every active and passive sensor on the ship, directing them towards the planet in question, listening to the wash of radio transmissions humming about the system. Despite the distance from the planet the signals were coming through loud and clear, and he immediately began recording several hundred frequencies, running a full analysis on the information. A good number of the channels seemed to be nothing but raw data, computers talking to each other. However the vast majority of the frequencies were filled with organics speaking to each other in an unknown language. Curious, while the language was unknown, the voices seemed very familiar. He ran an auditory analysis on the words being spoken, comparing them to a few hundred files on record. Curious, very curious, the language was unknown but the voices seemed human, very much human in fact. Either they were somehow hearing humans speaking here, using an unknown language in an unknown system, who knows how far from the UNSC, or a sapient alien race had evolved with a voice box identical to that of a modern human. Fockewulf ran off a few cycles to calculate which was more improbable, but wrote it off as a useless gesture.

On top of that, a few of the transmissions seemed to be entirely in binary, though the information was totally foreign to him. He could understand the binary well enough, but whatever was being translated into binary was unknown to him. Well, that was one more point in favor of these somehow being humans. Interesting as the planet was, he turned his attention to the other ships in the system. There were a few ships a long distance away, slowly hurtling towards them. It seemed that they were moving to intercept the anomaly. A perfectly reasonable course of action considering that a massive energy vortex had opened over their planet. More interesting, and concerning, was the larger ship orbiting the planet, very close to them. It measured approximately two kilometers in length, though he could not scan the interior of the ship very reliably. It seemed that it was very heavily armored, he would need a lot more time to crack that particular nut. However there was plenty he could tell from the outside of the ship. For one, it was covered in what seemed to be purely decorative iconography, even statuary. Fockewulf could hardly believe it, the sheer insanity of spending the resources to lift a statue of that size into orbit was an obscenity to a being that prized efficiency as much as he did. Other than the hideous décor, the ship had a few other things that made him pause. It was absolutely bristling with guns, and what seemed to be torpedo tubes on the prow. The sheer number of barrels sticking out of the ship bordered on the absurd, it looked of all things like it could serve a decent broadside action. And from what he could tell, those weapons were loaded for bear, and aimed directly at where the Wotan had just emerged from. He considered the situation, judging the smaller ship to at the very least be a threat to the Wotan, and the people aboard her. Fockewulf hardly wanted to start a war here, but he did not like having guns pointed at him, or his people. So he decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and decided to take a martial stance with the captain.

"Captain!" He said loudly, in case the captain was dazed and needed something to focus his attention, drawing his sword for good measure, "We've got trouble!"

Roberts looked at the AI avatar on the holo table. "Report, how's the ship?"

"As good as it was a second ago sir, but we have other problems."

"Don't leave me waiting." Roberts said, catching his breath.

"Long story short, there's alien life in this system, unknown race and there is a warship of an unknown configuration sitting with its guns pointed at that portal, correction, it is now on a pursuit course."

"Are their weapons online?" Roberts asked, pulling up a view of the frigate following them, taking a moment to marvel at the absurd external appearance.

"As far as I can tell sir, yes. They are accelerating from a dead stop, I don't think they can catch us in a straight sprint, though I wouldn't like to hazard a guess at the range of those weapons."

Roberts nodded, considering for a few moments, this was a first contact situation with someone who looked a little jumpy on the trigger. Their warships were much smaller than the Wotan, so he was in a position of comfortable superiority. Then again, one should never underestimate ones enemy, and they were alone here, who knows how far from support. Just as he thought that, the portal behind them collapsed in on itself and winked out of existence, as though it had never been. He didn't want to be the man behind a first contact gone bad, he decided to leave the system for the moment. They could come back later and explain things when the locals were calmed down a bit and ready to talk, then they could get their bearings.

"Fockewulf, the native seem restless. Plot us a slipspace jump out to the fringe of the system, but leave a comm buoy here, I want you analyzing any communications traffic bouncing around, start working on a translation protocol. I assume they speak, right?"

"Yes sir, they speak very well, I just can't understand them." Fockewulf confirmed. "Jump plotted sir, executing now." The Wotan was quickly enveloped in the slipspace portal, vanishing into the other dimension, dropping out an instant later on the edge of the system, a tiny stealth radio buoy orbiting the planet, listening in on communications.

Aboard the Reckoning…

Gaius watched as the strange ship corrected its course to avoid the planet, snapping away from their ship as they moved to pursue. He was not entirely sure what the Inquisitor intended to do against a ship that was ten times their size with an unknown loadout, but it was not his place to order the man about on his own ship. However, he did not think it would be until much later they caught up with the ship, it was moving very fast out of the anomaly and was accelerating as it went, while the Reckoning was accelerating from a station keeping orbit. However, with the SDF boats moving in from other angles, he was confident they could catch up to the ship eventually. Suddenly, the anomaly folded in upon itself and vanished, winking out with an anticlimactic fizzle. Gaius grit his teeth, now all answers to this mystery lay with the strange ship before them. Then, as easily as he might open a door, the ship slipped through a glowing blue gateway and vanished. Silence reigned on the bridge.

"Did they just…" Mendoza started.

"Perform a warp jump…" Xavier continued.

"Inside a gravity well?" the Magos finished, his voice equal parts outrage and envy.

"Yes." Inquisitor Graves said, his knuckles white where he was gripping the hololith. "Yes they did."

Reviews are most welcome, reader feedback is a great thing for a writer to have.


	2. Among the Bloodied Stars

Chapter 2 Among the Bloodied Stars

"So, where are we?" Captain Roberts asked. He had retired to his ready room, he wanted to be able to react without worrying about how his crew would see him. Fockewulf was projected onto the table before him, appearing to sit on a stack of books.

"I really have no idea sir, none of the constellations here match anything I have on record, and I had no way to track movement through that portal. To coin a phrase sir, we're lost in space."

Roberts frowned, rubbing his brow in annoyance. "Alright then, we can worry about where we are in the galaxy later, first let's worry about our immediate surroundings. Tell me about this system we're in."

Fockewulf nodded, waving his hand and conjuring a three dimensional map of the system to hover above the captain's desk. "The system itself is in no way remarkable, seven planets orbiting a yellow star comparable to Sol in most respects. The inner planets are remarkable close to their sun, leaving only the sixth planet in the comfortable habitable zone, the seventh planet is a gas giant. Like I said, nothing special there. However, as we saw before, this system is inhabited. There are what appear to be orbital dockyards built above the garden world, as well as gas mining rigs set up around the gas giant. The cameras on the recon satellite we dropped have scoped out several major population centers on the planet's surface, and I am monitoring communication's channels as we receive them, though with the comm lag this far out I'm actually hearing transmissions from before we got here in the first place."

Roberts nodded. "What can you tell me about the people here?" He asked.

Fockewulf squirmed a little uncomfortably. "Actually sir, I have a theory, it sounds insane but the data supports it. I have a sneaking suspicion that the people down there might actually be human."

Roberts blinked a few times, trying to get a hold on exactly what the AI had just said. "Human? I don't see how that is possible."

"Neither do I honestly but the data supports the hypothesis, here listen to this." Fockewulf played a few snippets of audio he had recorded from the planet's communications. "My analysis of the voices show that almost all of them are perfect matches for normal humans. Some fall outside the net, I think because of poor signal quality, but the rest are speaking in human voices even if the language is unlike anything I've heard of before. Also, there's this. He summoned the image of the frigate that had attempted to pursue them, zooming in on some of the statuary encrusting the hull. "Sir, these figures are human, no doubt about it, look at the stature, the faces, that's either human or something so insanely similar that it's not worth contemplating the evolutionary improbability."

Roberts shook his head. "We need a way to communicate with them, get on translation protocols.

The AI nodded, "Already working, but it' slow going. I have a few possible word meanings but without something more direct to work with it's mostly conjecture, I'll keep you appraised though of any new developments."

"Right then," Roberts said, "onto other matters. How are the ship and crew holding up?"

"The ship is in better condition than it has any right to be sir, considering what it's gone through. We suffered some minor structural damage from the impact with the cruiser, and a few power couplings blew out trying to keep the shields going, but other than that no major issues. The tech teams and Engineers are working on it now, it shouldn't be all that long before we're back to one hundred percent. As for the crew, they're holding up well, considering the circumstances. Most of them barely know what's going on, a lot of them are still in the dark as to what happened with the portal. Our passengers are another matter altogether. Most of them are ground pounders, and being cooped up with no idea what's going on is starting to drive them nuts. With your permission I'll start addressing them and informing them of the situation." Roberts nodded his permission. "Also, I've taken the liberty of trying to find somewhere to keep all the aliens we took on. We had a little room left aboard but between the Army, the Air Force, the Marines, our normal naval personnel and now all the aliens we rescued we're standing room only in some places."

"You'll make it work, I'm sure." Roberts said, the AI nodding, "Just keep me up to speed of any issues that develop with our new guests, with all the other problem's we're dealing with it would be a disaster if a major incident broke out. Oh and one other thing, start looking into our food supplies, hydroponics will do what they can but we're overcrowded now, I don't know if we can feed this many mouths." Fockewulf nodded again, fading from view and leaving the captain alone to his thoughts. He rubbed his brow, groaning. One way or another he'd find a way through this, but damned if he couldn't see the path right now.

In another part of the ship…

Warrick stood looking at the throng of shell socked aliens walking down the hall, "Hey," He called out to one of the Elites, "Any SpecOps guys with you?"

"No human." The Sangheili growled, marching past.

Warrick frowned, pushing up through the throng, "Hello, any SpecOps Elites in this crowd, hey, anybody?" He scanned over the heads of the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the familiar face.

"Hey, human." Said chirped a voice, Warrick looking down to see a Skirmisher decked out in hand-me-down human gear, "You looking for a SpecOps Sangheili? Can you describe him?"

"About yea tall, dark skin, yellow eyes, tried to be overly formal all the time?"

The Skirmisher considered, "A bit of a prick?" He asked.

Warrick's mouth worked for a moment, "Yeah, sounds about right actually."

The Skirmisher nodded, pointing over his shoulder with a thumb. "I flew over with him, he's seeing to one of his wounded fellows back there, he should be along in a little bit."

"Thanks!" Warrick said, pushing up the hall towards the docking bay. He looked around anxiously, trying to see his friend, before he finally saw a familiar face in the crowd. "Runa? Runa! Hey buddy, I'm over here!" He half shouted, happily pushing up through the crowd to get at the Sangheili. Runa turned to him and graced him with a weary smile. "Hey, Runa you okay?"

The Elite nodded, seeming very tired, "Yes, thankfully my team made it out unscathed. Though there are many who have not been so lucky." He looked around sadly at the rescues walking through the hall, being led to whatever quarters could be found. "I am fine though, thanks to this ship's valiant efforts. Tell me, what is the present situation?"

Warrick shrugged, "Not entirely sure, Fockewulf is giving a briefing after things get settled a little, so we should have a better idea then. Anything you need right now? I mean it doesn't look like you have anything with you."

Runa shook his head, "I have not but my armor and weapons, though that much I am grateful for. I do not know where I am to be housed until I can get to another ship though, there seems precious little space left."

Warrick shrugged, "I've got a spare cot if there's no other option, we're packed to the gunnels as it is with the wargames going on, so I don't think there's much space left. You're always welcome around my place though."

Runa nodded thankfully, "I appreciate that my friend, I will keep it in mind, now let us go see what your ship's construct has to say about this situation."

They entered a side room, looking up at the screen along the wall, currently displaying a simple standby graphic. "Hey, Fockewulf." Warrick said, "What's going on here?"

A moment later the AI's avatar appeared onscreen, looking down at the two of them. "Operative Tarikom, I'm glad to see you made it."

"As am I, thank you." Runa said with a polite bow of his head, "Now please tell us, what befalls this ship?"

Fockewulf rolled his shoulders nervously, "Simply put, that anomaly was a portal of some kind. We were pulled through it by the gravity well and it has spat us out in an unknown corner of space. We have no idea where we are, and even less of a clue how to get back. However, it seems that the system we've been dumped into is inhabited, the locals got a bit uppity with their warships when they saw us the first time and we jumped out to the edge of the system to avoid an incident. Now we're just trying to get our bearings and decide what's up next."

Warrick blinked in surprise, trying to process all that information. A slipspace portal? A new alien race, possibly hostile? Lost in unknown territory? He shook his head slowly, it was hard to grasp which part of this situation was most worrying, there were so many things that could go wrong. "I'm standing by if you need me." Warrick said, his voice sounding empty, even to him. The AI nodded, smiling grimly.

"Warrick has offered to share his quarters with me," Runa said, trying to steer the conversation in a less grim direction, "You won't need to worry about my accommodations."

Fockewulf nodded, "Good, that's one concern I can cross off my list then, let me know of any supplies you would like or special needs you may have, I'm available pretty much anywhere on the ship, just call and I'll come running." The AI nodded once more before fading away.

The Spartan and Sangheili turned to face each other, neither speaking for a while. "Well, shit." Warrick said, summing up the situation nicely.

The walked out into the hall, Warrick still feeling stunned from the revelation. They were lost, straight up lost. He had heard of ships suffering navigational errors and getting thrown off course, even slipspace drive failures that meant a ship simply never returned from a jump. But a ship being out and out lost in the middle of realspace? It was unheard of, not even mentioning the fact that it was the pride of the UNSC fleet of all ships that was in over its head.

"What are you going to do?" Runa asked.

Warrick shrugged. "All that I can do, sit and wait until the stuffed shirts upstairs decide that I'm useful. In the meantime though, I need a drink. Care to join me? We can drink to celebrate our survival of a far too exciting day." The Sangheili let out a deep laugh, motioning for the Spartan to lead on.

The transport tubes were chock full of people, mostly rescued aliens trying to get to their new quarters, as well as maintenance crews trying to get at the damaged sections of the ship. After a great number of stops they managed to get to the Rec area, finding the place to be a bit more loud than normal. It seemed that a few other crewmen had decided to either celebrate their surviving the ordeal, or drink their fears away and the couple bars looked more or less packed.

Thankfully their pub had a quieter atmosphere, so it looked a little thinner in there, they started walking over. The two of them made it halfway across the square when they heard a booming voice behind them.

"Runa Tarikom! Are you still alive?" Runa stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Oh ancestors, no." He breathed, turning in place. When he turned around he was all smiles, "Orna Fulsam! How nice to see you again."

Warrick turned as well, seeing an absolutely huge Elite walking towards them. Orna was evidently a Ranger, judging by the gunmetal grey armor he wore and the full face helmet tucked under his arm. He was about a head taller than any of the other Sangheili walking around, and swaggered over towards them, parting the crowd by what seemed like sheer force of personality.

Runa's smile looked rather pained as the huge ranger tromped over to them "How's my favorite sneak doing? I didn't even know you were part of this task force!" Between the sheer size of his lungs and his habit of half shouting every word, Orna's voice was battering on Warrick's eardrums in a way he wished they wouldn't.

"I did not know you were here either." Runa said, taking a step back to stay out of arm's reach. "And I am doing fine, thank you for asking. It would have been a great shame if something were to happen to yo-woah!" His attempts to evade the ranger were useless, Orna stepping forward and pulling the smaller Sangheili into a crushing hug. The big ranger tilted back, lifting Runa clear off the ground, his hooves kicking helplessly three inches off the ground. Runa clattered to the ground a moment later, sucking in a deep breath. "Th-Thank you Orna, I'm glad you're alive too."

"So, what are you two doing down here, I assume you know each other?" Orna asked, looking to Warrick.

The Spartan shrugged, "We're friends, known each other for a few years. We were actually coming own for a drink to…"

"Fine idea!" Orna said, putting a hand on Runa's shoulder and spinning the poor, battered Sangheili around before marching him towards the pub, "I think I'll join you." Warrick stood staring after the Sangheili, trying to figure out what exactly had just happened.

Orna burst into the pub like a tank driving through a wall, clearing a path to the bar while dragging a confused and frightened looking Runa along with him, gently shoving the other Sangheili onto a stool. Warrick followed along, a little amused despite his friend's predicament. He sat down as well, ordering drinks for the three of them. "So, Runa, mind introducing me to your friend here?" Warrick asked, Runa trying to regain some of his composure.

"Warrick, this is Orna Fulsam, I trained with him in War College when we were cadets. We both excelled enough to be promoted out of our unit though and went into different areas of the service, namely the rangers and SpecOps. We haven't seen much of each other since then, sometimes our units are in the same system and Orna makes a point of finding me to say hello."

The big ranger clapped him on the back, smiling, "Well one of us has to, considering that half the time you don't seem that eager to say hello to me!" The drinks arrived and Orna downed a big gulp of alcohol. "You know I don't know why you didn't come into the rangers with me, you'd have been great at it!"

Runa shifted in his seat, sitting up with the poise he usually showed. "While I appreciate the compliment, I prefer my placement in Special Operations. Our way of fighting emphasizes cunning, subtlety, precision. One must be calm and collected, possessing a certain peace of mind and a clear head to be able to function well within our ranks, whereas combat for a ranger focuses much more on"

"Jetpacks!" Orna interrupted, Runa nodding along before he realized what happened, "I mean that's why I joined! True you're the first one into almost any fight, frontline, behind enemy lines, taking out high value targets, opening the path for the others to follow. I mean we get sent to death worlds, toxic worlds, airless planetoids, you see more of the galaxy than you'd ever see otherwise. Oh and then there's the glory, I swear if this were a Sangheili bar I'd have females crawling all over me by this point!"

Runa took a long pull of alcohol, "There's a memory I'd like to forget."

If Orna heard he didn't care, "But I'd give up all of that if that's what it took to keep this jetpack, I love this little thing. You have not lived until you've raced into an enemy position on wings of fire, screaming at the top of your lungs as you look into their surprised faces right before you slam into them, it's the best feeling in the universe! I tell you, if it were a choice between fighting in armor with no pack, or going in naked with my pack, I'd take the damn jetpack any day of the year."

"That's another image I'd like to lose." Runa said, refilling his drink.

Orna heard this time, grinning and leaning in. "Of course it wouldn't be the first time for some of us, would it?"

Runa blushed purple, "Orna, don't you dare!"

"There I was!" Orna said dramatically, waving his hand as though to indicate the scene, "Our compound had just been hit by some Brute-led raiders, fires all around. I was on guard duty that night, this was before we got promoted out of normal infantry mind you, and was just taking cover behind a fallen guard tower when I see a sight I'll never forget."

"Orna, I will kill you in your sleep!" Runa threatened, though the ranger didn't seem to care.

"Here comes none other than Runa Tarikom, rushing to save the day. But he was so eager to get into battle he'd forgotten his armor! So here he comes, what was the quaint human phrase? Oh yes, buck-ass naked, waving a sword over his head screaming bloody murder, right into the middle of a few very surprised looking Brutes!"

"What do you want from me!" Runa demanded, "The showers were bombed while I was in them, it's a miracle I survived at all, I hardly had time to find suitable garb, the building was on fire!"

"You take your sword to the shower?" Warrick asked, deciding he needed another drink before this conversation continued.

Orna was too busy laughing to answer, and Runa looked like he wanted to crawl into a dark little corner, though his face was so purple with rage and embarrassment he probably would have shined like a flare.

A few other patrons overheard the story and erupted into laughter, making poor Runa glow even brighter. Warrick wouldn't have been surprised if the poor Elite didn't activate his cloak unit and try to slink away. "Cheer up bud." He said, pushing another drink into the Sangheili's hands, "Today is a good day, who can say about tomorrow?" Runa nodded, not seeming to feel like talking right now, and downed his drink as Orna beamed at them both. Yes, who could say what tomorrow held? Warrick tried to ignore the unease growing in his gut, he would deal with tomorrow when it came. Today he was surrounded by friends in a warm bar. Today, life was good.

Aboard the Holy Reckoning, orbiting the sixth planet…

Inquisitor Gaius sat around the conference table, surrounded by his senior staff. Magos Edriton was there, as was the captain. The commander of the SDF and PDF had been called up for the meeting, and of course the Astartes were present as well. Tyburn sat with his fingers interlaced in front of him, turning a serious glare slowly around the room, fixing on each individual in turn. Finally he turned his gaze down to the control lectern on the table before him, muttering the Litany of Activation and ritually smacking the device to rouse the machine spirit within. A moment later the hololith in the table crackled to life, displaying an image of the ship that had come through the anomaly earlier, the image occasionally jumping in place.

"Gentlemen, we face a serious crisis." The Inquisitor began, "The system has been breached by an unknown ship, arriving by methods of possible tech-heresy or sorcery, we do not know. At this moment the vessel's exact location is unknown, but at present we are assuming that it is still within the system, likely lurking on the edge of the gravity well. Given the ship's ability to seemingly initiate warp within a gravity well, it is using a method of propulsion which we have never before encountered. In addition, the vessel is seemingly constructed by an unknown faction, as none of the record we presently have access to make mention of a ship like this being sighted before. As such, it is to be considered a grave threat, both through the doubtless heretical technologies which propel it, and by the likely hostile aliens who crew it. In addition to this, the ship in question is slightly over twenty kilometers from prow to stern, and is mounting an unknown armament, however we believe that this," He indicated the hole on the bow of the ship, "Is a spinally mounted weapon of some form. In conclusion, the ship is to be considered incredibly dangerous, and is an almost complete unknown. Now, the question remains, what are we going to do about it?" He looked especially hard at the PDF and SDF commanders, who shifted somewhat uncomfortably. The glare of an Inquisitor was not something to be taken lightly.

"I have set the entire System Defense Force on high alert!" The SDF 'Admiral' said. He was an older man, void-born by the looks of him, he was as inexperienced as most defense personnel were, but he at least seemed mildly competent. "The listening stations throughout the system are wary and informed to question all incoming craft, nothing bigger than a melon gets through without being scanned, interrogated, or boarded."

"And what of our preparations groundside?" The Inquisitor asked.

The PDF 'General' was next, a somewhat portly man who still somehow managed to squeeze into his old uniform. "I have turned out the PDF, they are on full invasion alert. Food stockpiles are prepared in the event of siege, and martial law is in effect. The PDF is conducting regular searches for any possible infiltrators or conspirators, and loyalty checks are in progress, starting from the top. We don't know what we're dealing with or how long they've been planning this, there could be infiltrators already in place and waiting to strike."

Graves nodded, considering the situation before them. "The situation is grave indeed, but thankfully we need not face the fire alone. By the Emperor's beneficence a detachment of the Imperial Navy was close enough at hand to hear our call for help. They were returning home for resupply following a successful campaign, and the commander of the force has agreed to come to our aid. With favorable warp currents, we should be joined by a battleship and a handful of escorts in roughly a week's time."

There was resounding joy around the table at that proclamation. "In the meantime, continue your duties and remain alert, the enemy could strike at any moment, and I highly doubt that they came here just to sit on the edge of the system and mope. One way or another, we'll find them." Graves clenched his fist. "And when we do, we will kill them." And Inquisitor Graves always followed through on such oaths.

In the ready room of the Wotan…

"Well we can't just sit here and twiddle our thumbs, can we?" Captain Roberts asked rhetorically, looking at the assembled people in the room. His Executive Officer was present, as were the commanding officers of the Army, Marine and Air Force units currently aboard the ship. Field Marshall Sarom was present as well, as he was the highest ranking Sangheili leader who had made it aboard. Fockewulf was of course present as well, sitting on a throne-like chair he had projected for the occasion.

"That would seem a waste of time." Sarom concurred, missing the point.

"What we need, is information." The Air Force commander said, a slight woman with cropped blonde hair and razor sharp eyes. "We are strangers in a strange land, we need to assess these locals abilities, learn about them, and determine what kind of threat they pose to the ship."

"Irene, in their defense they were just defending their system, we would likely have done the same in their place." The Army commander said, a solid man in his mid-forties.

"Granted," Irene replied, "But nevertheless they have multiple warships hovering not all that far away, their capabilities and weapons compliment are both unknown. We have reason to believe that the locals are humans, so I propose that,"

"Actually, we have proof." Fockewulf said, "Pardon the interruption milady, but here." He waved his hand, creating an image on the table. It was a spy satellite photo taken earlier, zooming in to show what were obviously human beings walking throughout one of the cities.

Irene nodded, "Of course Fockewulf, thank you. Now that we know for sure, I believe that our best bet is to get an operative down there, someone who can analyze the culture, get us first hand data. A small team of trained operatives on the ground could get us invaluable insights, we might be able to find some way to communicate, then we could really get somewhere with these locals."

Field Marshall Sarom leaned over the table. "I suppose there is nothing we can do to help? My people are not used to sitting idly by as others do their work."

Roberts shook his head. "Sadly no, we need someone who can blend in with the surroundings. So we have to send a human. Though I highly doubt we'll get through this ordeal without needing to call upon the skill of your warriors. No, we need a human for the job, or at least someone who looks human. And I have just the Spartans for the job.

Within the Wotan…

"You want me to what?" Warrick asked, barely understanding what had just been asked of him.

"I want you, and Callsign Shadow to go down to the planet and investigate the locals." Captain Roberts said, "This is not up for discussion Spartan, it is in fact an order. You are to insert onto the planet via prowler, you will be unarmored, your stealth specialist will be in full Mjolnir gear. From there you are to monitor the locals in close observation for as long as you can, gaining all the knowledge about their culture, and most importantly, their language that you can."

"Why I Shadow coming sir?" Warrick asked, an armored Spartan would probably raise a few eyebrows if spotted.

"Because I'm coming too!" A familiar voice says, Fockewulf materializing on a holo plinth. "Or at least a fragment of me is, I'm sending along a copy of myself in Shadow's armor, he needs to be there so I can be on site, nothing else is powerful enough to actually run me and still be portable. You're going to want me there so that I can provide immediate analysis of whatever you find down there, and hopefully help with getting a translation system up and running, though that's a shaky possibility."

Warrick shook his head, trying to think on how he would pull this off. "So I'm going down unarmored, can I at least bring a weapon?"

"If that is your belief yes, though keep it out of sight until we know whether the locals carry weapons in their daily life. We don't want to get entangled in any legal disputes down there."

Warrick let out an explosive sigh. "Right sir, I'll be ready to go as soon as you give the word."

Roberts nodded, "The word is given, proceed with your mission as soon as you are able, I will be waiting to hear your reports from the surface. If there is nothing else…" Captain Roberts turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Warrick to contemplate his assignment.

Ninety minutes later, Warrick was aboard one of the Prowler class stealth ships in the Wotan's hanger, speeding down towards the planet. They didn't want to risk a slipspace jump just to shave off some time, so they were moving slower than light all the way down. Fockewulf had identified several installations that looked like sensor stations. Right after the Wotan had arrived in system they had put out massive pings of active scanners, giving their positions away, it was a sloppy move that made it childishly easy for the AI to find them. The Prowler was moving along a somewhat convoluted course that would take them through the gaps in the sensor net, there was no point in testing the local's scanners against the Prowlers cloak when they could avoid it. Not knowing what exactly was coming, Warrick grabbed a few hours of sleep on the flight in, who knew when he could have the time to sleep again. A Spartan could stay awake for a long time before they started to lose effectiveness, days if needed, but if things went badly he might need every moment of alert energy he could get to make it off this planet alive.

Far too soon for his taste, they were there, and it was time to disembark.

The Prowler had slipped down through the atmosphere of the planet to land upon the surface some distance from a major population center. Warrick had donned what Fockewulf assured him was a close approximation of local garb. He wore a rugged jacket of heavy fabric with a hood, and similarly rugged cargo pants over standard issue combat boots. From what the AI had observed from above, this was something that would be considered socially acceptable for the locals below. He hoped the AI was right. Also stepping out with him was Shadow, clad in his midnight black Wetwork armor, a suppressed DMR in his hand. The stealth Spartan looked at him, giving a reassuring nod, which Warrick returned. "So, shall we proceed? I've never been part of a first contact scenario before." Warrick shook his head, Fockewulf's enthusiasm was a little infectious.

"Might as well, let's get a move on." He said, pulling up his hood to cover the neural link on the back of his head. "Time and tide wait for no man."

The city rising before him looked strange to Warrick's eyes. In some ways it was very similar to the cities he had been used to, tall structures in the middle, lower ones spread out to all sides, the contrails of aircraft flying high overhead. But in other ways it seemed very different, these structures were blocky and hard, not the shining pillars of glass and steel he was used to, but rather grey angular things. From his vantage point a few miles away it looked like the entire city had been poured straight out of a concrete mold. "We'll hold back from here on in." Shadow said as they started to approach the outskirts, "I'll be close by, we can see and hear everything you can, don't worry boss."

"It's not my first covert operation Shadow, but thanks. Fockewulf, I'm going to want your help understanding everything I'm looking at , I'm no anthropologist." The AI chirped an affirmative as they walked closer to the city. Warrick looked up to the skyline again, noting the strange script on some of the buildings, as well as the omnipresent statuary. He glanced to his side, not surprised to see that Shadow had vanished. He was in the outskirts of the city now, walking between a pair of blocky buildings, before he took a deep breath and put his boot down on the pavement of a street. Well, here he was, he thought, looking around to see a few figures walking in the distance. Might as well get on with it.

He examined the figures as he walked closer, noting that his clothes didn't seem too out of place, though the fine details were of course off. Hopefully it wouldn't arouse too much suspicion however, so he continued to walk the streets, his eyes up and alert beneath his heavy hood. The locals were all walking swiftly along the sidewalks, nobody was just standing around out here, but then again this was the outskirts of the city, there was little cause to just be standing about. Warrick walked past a man coming the opposite way down the street, nodding in greeting. The man glanced up, returning a quick nod before walking on. "Interesting," Fockewulf's voice whispered into his ear, "this does prove that the locals are human, seemingly mildly sociable, though I need more data before I can begin to speculate on their culture. Could you please move further into the city proper? There is doubtlessly more that we can learn the further in we go."

Warrick grunted an affirmative through his throat mic, walking along the sidewalk towards the grey-brown spires of the city. He tried to make himself smaller as he walked, he towered over every native ha passed, these people if anything seemed shorter than people Warrick was used to, making the roughly seven foot tall Spartan feel more out of place than normal. Strangely though, most people didn't seem to find it that interesting, only sparing him a passing glance as he walked by, occasionally offering what he presumed were greetings in their native tongue. Unable to speak to them, Warrick simply returned a smile and a nod, which seemed to be truly universal forms of communication.

He looked around at the buildings he passed, noting the uniformity of the whole affair. Every building looked like it had been cast from a common mold, everything was blocky and dull and constructed from the same concrete substance. The buildings loomed overhead like giant bunkers, the ever present statuary glaring down from the rooftops at the people walking by below. They were into the city now, Warrick looking around at the people walking by. He noted a few soldiers coming around a corner, and paused in the shadow of an entryway to examine them. They wore hard shelled body armor that looked quite sturdy to him, their rifles slung over their backs, though no sidearms. They walked through the doors of the building, emerging a few minutes later to enter the next one. As they emerged they were joined by another, who to Warrick's surprise was carrying what looked to be a backpack sized radio device. He studied the soldiers from afar, his enhanced eyes allowing him to easily examine the details of their armor and gear. Again, he was surprised by the lack of sophistication evident by their gear, their helmets didn't look like they carried any communication devices, and he could see no evidence of computer devices on the soldiers. The radioman pulled a corded telephone off his pack and handed it to one of the soldiers, who talked for a minute before hanging up, proceeding into the next building. "Fockewulf, what do you make of their gear?" He asked, throat mic picking up the sub vocal speech.

"Well I can't say I think very highly of it." Fockewulf said, "That radio pack is decently powerful from the signal it's giving off but the whole setup is woefully primitive. I'm doing some scans of the radio and those rifles, we'll be able to figure out more when I get this data back to the Wotan. In the meantime I advise that you keep moving, standing around watching soldiers doing their rounds probably isn't an accepted local pastime. Hmm, I'm seeing some kind of event going on further up the street, could you please investigate?"

Warrick grunted again, turning away from the patrol as he walked in the indicated direction. As he walked he passed a few more soldiers doing their rounds, they seemed to be questioning people, asking polite but pointed sounding questions before walking on to randomly accost someone else. Warrick frowned, he wondered if this was normal procedure or a reaction to the Wotan appearing in the system. Either way, the locals looked like they were alert for the possibility of infiltration. Well, he would just have to be better than them, judging by their tech level he didn't think evading their search would be terribly difficult, their clumsy communications would make evading individual groups fairly easy for someone of his experience. He fingered the plasma pistol under his jacket, feeling the comforting weight of the gun. It was a fine little pistol, redesigned for human use by a group of rather savvy Sangheili weapons merchants who realized how fond human special forces had become of some Covenant weapons, so they had redesigned the externals of some weapons like the carbine and plasma pistol to make them more appealing to humans. One of them was quoted saying 'make it black and angular, humans love that' and it seemed to have worked. Internally the plasma pistol was basically the same, with all the features of the original in a more comfortable package. He had grown fond of the pistol, it had served him well in numerous situations, he hoped he wouldn't have to call upon it on this mission.

As the AI had said, there was some sort of event in progress further up the street, a small crowd had gathered. He peered over the heads of the crowd to see a man standing atop a large crate, speaking passionately to the assembled people. He wore long robes, white under patches of dirt, and waved a long staff over his head as he shouted to the crowd. On the staff's head was a double headed eagle, a similar design stitched into the front of his robe. He waved dramatically with his staff, grasping at the air with his free hand as he bellowed at the crowd. He looked to Warrick like any other doomsday prophet preaching to the masses. What was odd, was how the masses in question responded. Instead of walking away or ignoring the raving preacher, they stood about him in rapt attention, making what he assumed were holy hand gestures and repeating some stretches of what he said. Warrick also noted that most of the people standing about were wearing a similar double headed eagle emblem on a necklace, one that was conspicuously absent from Warrick's garb.

He walked closer to the group, making sure Fockewulf got a good recording of the sermon, as well as the people's reaction to it. He did his best to follow along with the movement of the crowd, bowing his head, cheering assent, and making that strange hand gesture with the crowd to try and blend in. This continued for a few minutes, until the preacher seemed to wind down, waving for the crowd to disperse. Warrick lingered a minute, watching the group walk away, examining the priest and his various accoutrements, which included what looked worryingly like a human skull. He seemed to linger a moment too long however, the priest took notice of him and walked over, making that same double handed clasp gesture over his chest, which Warrick retuned. The man proceeded to address him in the local language, Warrick feeling very on edge. Given how the people reacted to the preacher, just ignoring him was not socially acceptable, but he didn't want to arouse too much suspicion. The preacher frowned, speaking again, it sounded like a question in a reassuringly good natured voice.

"Um, hello." Warrick said, lamely. The priest frowned again, his brow furrowed, before saying something interrogative in his dialect. "I'm sorry, I can't understand you." Warrick said, shrugging, looking as sorry as a seven foot tall super soldier could. He gestured to his mouth, miming speaking, then shook his hand at his ear before shrugging. The priest looked confused for a moment before seeming to catch on, smiling and nodding. Before he did anything else, Warrick caught his attention, pointing to his chest, miming holding a medallion before looking apologetically to the priest. The man frowned, but reached into his bag, handing Warrick a small double eagle medallion, which the Spartan put on, making thankful gestures. The priest's expression softened after a moment, and he walked along the street, waving for the Spartan to follow. "Might as well follow the preacher, he seems insistent." Warrick sub-vocalized, following along.

The Preacher led him deeper into the city, past taller buildings and crowds of people. They also passed larger groups of soldiers marching along, conducting searches and sweeps, interrogating people seemingly at random. Nobody stopped the preacher though, the soldiers parted before him to let him pass with Warrick in tow. "Interesting," Fockewulf whispered to him, "It seems that religious officials carry a lot of weight in this culture, the soldier's trust him implicitly." Warrick agreed, everywhere they went people made way for the priest. It wasn't just a polite way of treating the man, they jumped out of the way and stood still, their heads inclined in reverence as he passed, before scuttling along their way, some of them speaking in reverent tones as the priest passed by.

They turned a corner and Warrick momentarily stopped dead, awestruck by what he saw next. Flanking the street were a pair of massive statues, several hundred feet tall. Seemingly carved from a single block of stone, the two massive figures were clad in enormous suits of armor, it looked reminiscent of mediaeval plate armor with huge solid plates and massive pauldrons. One held a sword and a huge blocky gun, the other a long scroll of paper with alien writing etched into the stone. Warrick stood in awe of the massive sculptures before remembering himself and rushing to catch up with the preacher. After a minute more of walking they came upon what looked to be a temple of some kind, judging by all the stained glass and statuary, the Spartan following the preacher inside, hoping that this had been a good idea.

The preacher spoke a few words to one of the men at the front of the temple, Warrick taking a moment to examine the huge stained glass window. It depicted a few figures similar to the statues outside, huge beings clad in heavy armor with massive weapons. The armor looked technologically advanced, which was surprising. "Perhaps a warrior culture?" The AI listening in surmised, "They seem to revere these warriors, that central figure in particular." The figure in question was lovingly rendered in stained glass, a huge man in golden armor with a stern face and a flaming sword. His eyes bore down onto the floor of the temple below, Warrick unable to shake the feeling of being watched.

"Charming people." He mumbled into the com.

The priest was back a moment later, ushering Warrick down a few side passages into a little room lined with strange equipment. They looked to be beds, with some strange devices nearby. Most of them were empty, though a few were occupied, people lying down with full face helmets on, they were either unconscious or simply lying still. The priest smiled, gesturing to one of the beds. "Perhaps some form of teaching tool?" Fockewulf theorized, "Your call Spartan, it's your head, not mine." Warrick smiled, but was more than a little concerned within. This could be a good thing, on the other hand, it could be a very bad thing. Though for a culture that seemed to take their religion this seriously, running out of a temple with an irate priest on your heels would probably be seen as a bad thing. So, reluctantly, he laid down and affixed the helmet on his head. He heard the sound of a few switches being flipped, then it was joined by another sound, a strange soothing hum that reminded him of the purring of a giant cat. He thought he could hear something else in the sound, the echo of a voice, he strained to hear it, like a word just on the tip of his tongue…

Warrick woke slowly, blinking as the dim light of the temple room filtered back in. An instant later he was alert, leaping up in bed, his hand flying to the plasma pistol still under his jacket. "Brother, are you well?" The voice stayed his hand, he looked around, seeing a young man in robes similar to the priest from before, though his lacked many of the ornaments the preacher had. "Do you require something?" The man asked, seeming concerned.

"Uh, no, thank you." Warrick said reflexively, before realizing he was suddenly speaking the native language. The adept nodded, "It seems the hypnotraining is holding well, praise The Emperor." He bowed his head, Warrick copying him, "Can you understand me?"

"Perfectly, thank you." Warrick replying, figuring that in a crisis it was always best to be polite. The adept bowed again as Warrick rose, walking out of the room and exiting the temple. Every time he looked at an object the local word for it unfolded into his mind.

"Some kind of subconscious training system?!" Fockewulf said excitedly, "Oh I want to get my hands on that! Warrick, we need to meet up, I must take a look at your brain."

"So long as I can have it back when you're done." Warrick said, looking for a nice spot to meet up with Shadow.

A few minute later Warrick was sitting down atop a secluded rooftop, Shadow busily attaching a fiber optic cable to the port on the back of his neck. After he was satisfied, he reached over and gently plugged the other end into Warrick's neural link. "Alright, let's see what's in there." Fockewulf said through the speakers on Shadow's armor.

"Be careful in there, I like my head the way it is, try not to break anything." Warrick warned, not entirely comfortable with this. He had never interfaced directly with an AI before, he wondered how pleasant an experience it would be.

"Oh relax, at the most I'll clean out a few of the cobwebs, I'll bill you later." The AI said cheerily, before he did whatever it was he did to hop into someone's brain. Warrick felt like liquid nitrogen had been poured in through the back of his neck, his skin crawling as a freezing liquid something wormed its way into his mind, his every neuron tingling. "Ah, what an interesting place this is." Fockewulf said, though Warrick heard him with both his ears and mind, "Reminds me of the schematics for an old battleship I saw one time." Warrick growled low in his throat, still sorting out the new sensation.

"All right, keep your shirt on. Now let's see here, where is that language cortex, oh here it is!" He felt the ice in his brain shift around. "Hmm, impressive technology they used on you. If I had to hazard a guess some kind of hypnotic trance to open the way for subliminal programming. You can relax though, it seems they didn't put anything in other than language information, quite a helpful little gadget actually, I can think of a number of possible applications."

"The language Fockewulf, don't get distracted in there." Warrick growled.

"Of course, but there is an awful lot to draw my attention, this memory of you on shore leave for instance…"

"Don't look at that!" Warrick yelped, his hands coming up as though to shield his mind from the entity within it. Then he heard the laughter.

"Relax! I can't actually read your mind or memories no matter how many people subscribe to that theory, now let's see here. All I have to do is cross reference the translation system with your knowledge of the English language, download a copy of the original to make a more complete translation matrix and we're good! Sit tight Spartan, this should only take a few minutes."

'A few minutes' turned out to be more along the lines of half an hour. Half an hour of Warrick sitting down with his eyes closed as an ever so cheerful AI picked through his brain, remarking on various aspects of the local culture to pass the time. "Judging by what we've seen so far, the locals have some form of authoritarian government, either that or this is simply a martial response to our being in the system. Which I would like to observe is a fairly acceptable human response to an unknown force encroaching on your star system. What is truly interesting is the degree to which religion plays a role in their society, it seems omnipresent. I'm able to understand a fair bit of what they're saying on the radio now, a solid third of their comm traffic are broadcasted sermons. Alright, we're done here, thanks for letting me play billiards with your brain cells."

Warrick felt the liquid ice withdraw from his brain, the fiber optic cable detaching a moment later. Warrick stood, massaging the back of his neck instinctively. "Now I suppose I return to my mission." He said, walking towards the side of the building.

"Of course, we have so much more to learn now, I'll be monitoring their communications channels as well." Fockewulf said as Warrick stepped over the side of the building, dropping twenty feet to the pavement below. He landed lightly, before walking out onto the street again, the sound of the city swallowing him at once.

As he walked, Warrick took in the voices around him, hurried conversations of people walking along, the occasional pair stopped by a doorway. His hearing was far sharper than that of a normal human, he picked up most every word with ease and catalogued it for future reference.

"PDF is active recently," A man to his left said, "They don't usually conduct this many searches, they're questioning a lot of people, asking if anything strange has been going on."

"Do you think there's an emergency? It couldn't be heresy could it?" his companion said, looking around nervously. "I hope whatever it is passes quickly."

"That all depends on whether or not they find what they're looking for, otherwise they might just keep looking." The first man said again, "Come on, we shouldn't be standing still for so long, someone might get suspicious." They hurriedly walked off down the street.

That was the general feeling Warrick got walking down the street of the strange city, there was a thick tension in the air. Nobody talked directly about it, nobody protested or complained, they all just kept moving, looking over their shoulders. The sense of being watched was omnipresent, between the constant patrolling soldiers and occasional checkpoint the military was out in force, then there were the signs. He passed one glued to the side of a building, a pair of fiery eyes staring down menacingly at the pedestrians on the street "The Emperor's eyes are always watching" the sigh declared in blocky letters.

The time worn statues along the streets raised weapons in defiance of some old foe, banners and murals depicted soldiers and armored warriors doing battle with green skinned humanoids or giant insects or screaming men in rags. Always the enemy was crushed and terrified. Warrick looked up at a mosaic depicting a huge man in grey armor setting a few screaming men in black robes on fire, the victims clutching at their burning clothes as the knight stood triumphant. "Thus awaits all heretics!" Declared the caption beneath.

And everywhere were the temples and shrines, the calls of preachers filled the street as burning incense wafted upon the air. He passed one of the holy men, waving a painted skull in the air and raving about how the unbelievers would burn and the heretics would be crushed, and how the glorious armies of man would stand triumphant over all, as was their birthright. The crowd bowed their heads, chanting the title of Emperor in reverent voices. Warrick shifted uneasily, walking along the street in the city of fanatics as the soldiers rousted a street vendor nearby, demanding to see papers and permits.

"Charming place." He muttered into his mic, "Wonder how many tourists they get around here."

"Probably not very high on their list of priorities." Fockewulf said, "From what I am able to discern from these radio transmissions, this planet seems largely dedicated to the production of food and armaments for transport off world. It seems that my earlier hunch was right, we appear to be dealing with a heavily militarized society."

Warrick walked under the gaze of a checkpoint, armed guards standing watch and a heavy machinegun not quite aimed at the street. "You could never tell from the surface. I wonder what's got them all riled up. Apart from us that is, but this planet is a total police state from what we've seen, that has to be in reaction to something."

"A logical conclusion." The AI replied, "One does not create a fascist state without an external enemy to rally against."

"Because you need the hatred and fear to rally the people and get them to follow your commands, without a clear and present threat they have no real reason besides fear to follow your orders. And those who rule through fear inevitably face the fury of their own people." The Spartan replied, looking at the haggard faces of the people walking by.

"Those who make peaceful revolution impossible make violent revolution inevitable." The AI said.

"Don't quote J.F.K at me," Warrick shot back, grinning despite himself, "Anyway, what I'm saying is that there has got to be a major external threat to get these people working together, without it whoever runs this police state wouldn't be able to keep their noses to the grindstone. If we're stuck in their neck of the woods for a while it might be useful to know what kind of dangers are crawling around these stars."

"Sounds like a good focus of study." The AI agreed, "If I may suggest starting with the temples we've been seeing everywhere. From the transmissions I'm hearing their entire society is structured around their religion, I don't quite understand all of it, but I'm picking up some major themes. Perhaps inspecting their scriptures would be a useful method to acquire some local history."

"I'll start there then." Warrick confirmed, walking towards one of the spires he saw nearby, a great edifice of carven stone, the doors flanked by winged men with swords, "Though I hardly think we'll get an objective account from the likes of this place."

Warrick walked through the double doors of the temple, an elderly man sitting behind a table looking up as he came in. "Ah, welcome stranger to the Emperor's house, how does this day find you?"

Warrick stood, transfixed by the face of the man in robes, or rather by his eye. The man's left eye had been replaced by a large crude looking cybernetic device, dull lenses staring blankly out of his face, ugly bolts holding the device in place. A thick cable ran from the device around the back of his head, disappearing from view.

"It finds me well enough." Warrick said after a moment, trying not to stare, there were a network of scars running across the man's face, like a great claw had tried to tear his head off but just barely missed.

"Hmm, not that I don't appreciate visitors, but why aren't you at work?" The man asked, eyeing him shrewdly.

"I work nights." Warrick lied flawlessly, "Just got off shift and decided to come in.

The man gave him a long look, but seemed to accept his story, rising up from his chair and setting down what looked like a quill pen. "Ah, well that's fine. Forgive an old man's skepticism, the echoes of an old life."

Warrick sized the man up, noting how he walked. Despite the shuffle and bowed shoulders of extreme age the priest carried himself with the air of a military man, his steps the loping strides of one who's done a lot of marching. "You're a veteran." He observed, the man grinning.

"Aye, that I am. Forty years a Guardsman with the Valhallan 597th, before a piece of shrapnel ended my career. They dropped me here when they stopped for supplies. Ever since I've tried to serve the Emperor in a spiritual way rather than a martial one. But look at me, an old man blabbering away, tell me lad what brought you here?"

"I wish to learn." Warrick said, looking as pious as possible for someone who never went to church, "To consult any texts you might have available to improve myself."

The Priest smiled again, and nodded, his eyepiece catching the light. "Yes, yes of course, let me show you to the reading room." He limped slightly as he walked, but tried to hide it. He led Warrick into a side room with a few bookshelves and a reading table. "It is not much I admit, but it should be enough to get started. Do you need any help reading them?" The man asked, as polite as he could.

"No, thank you, I think I can do this myself." Warrick said, bowing his head and clasping his hands over his chest, "Thank you for your kindness."

"The road of faith is a rocky one." Quoted the priest, "Made smoother by our devotion to others."

Well, perhaps they weren't all that bad. Warrick scanned the volumes on the shelves as the priest left, many of them looking quite old. "Start with that one there," Fockewulf said, "It seems to be a history of some kind."

Warrick pulled the old book from the shelf and sat at the table, making sure the camera in his coat had a good view of the book. He started flipping through the pages, not bothering to read them knowing that Fockewulf was processing all the information written much faster than he could. Though he did pause every few pages to look at the painstakingly drawn pictures. He closed the cover a few minutes later, consulting the AI. "So, what can you tell me?"

"Stand by, processing." Fockewulf said in a distracted tone of voice. Warrick frowned, wondering what could possibly take a smart AI of Fockewulf's caliber so long to figure out. A few seconds later Fockewulf spoke up again, "Warrick, this is a lot of information, all of it fascinating, none of it good, at least for us."

"What do you mean? What's in this book?" Warrick asked, looking down at the innocent little tome.

The AI was silent for a moment. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." He said cryptically.

"Um, while I do understand the reference, can you please explain what you mean?" Warrick said, feeling uneasy about this whole situation. Whatever was in that book was enough to get Fockewulf spooked, and the AI wasn't one for unnecessary theatrics when dealing with important issues.

"I mean that this little book is a major overview of the local history. It's been embellished extensively, lots of flowery descriptions and ramblings about religion, but the broad strokes are plain enough to see. Warrick, if this history is in any way true then we're in a lot more trouble here than we ever anticipated."

"What is it Fockewulf, come on don't leave me in suspense here." Warrick said, trying to dispel the unease with a little levity. It didn't work.

"According to this book." Fockewulf began, "The current human civilization is ruled over by their God Emperor, a being this book embellishes to be a literal deity. He has apparently been ruling for millennia, though I highly doubt it, and has been presiding over human expansion and settlement for the past ten thousand years."

Warrick blinked, the implication settling upon him. "You mean, that this book claims humanity has been a spacefaring power for ten thousand years?"

"That's exactly what it claims!" Fockewulf said, pressing on. "And that's not all! The book speaks of Holy Terra, birthplace of humankind where they first came into being, from which the Emperor still rules the Imperium of Man!"

"So, Earth." Warrick said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "How is any of this possible? Humanity has been a space faring race for about five hundred years, not ten thousand!"

"The information here speaks of a rather extensive history, though again most of it has been altered and made to fit a religious narrative. According to this, humankind once established a great society spanning the stars, but it was subsequently destroyed. Eventually their Emperor rose on Terra and led them back to the stars, reclaiming their lost colonies and uniting humanity. Then it seems one of their major generals began a civil war against the Emperor and the Imperium was wracked by war and destruction. After defeating the traitors the Emperor ascended to something referred to as the Golden Throne form which he has ruled ever since. For the past ten thousand years the Imperium has been under siege from all sides by aliens and beset from within by 'heresy' and continues to fight on in the name of their God Emperor."

Warrick sat back in the chair, wondering. "Fockewulf, where are we? More to the point, when are we?"

"Unknown." The AI replied, "We were pulled through a portal, not entirely unlike the one leading from Earth to The Ark. That portal spanned the breadth of the Milky Way in a microsecond and the one we passed through was several orders of magnitude more powerful. I initially thought it would simply transport us to another location in space far from the origin point, but now I am not so sure. It is possible that the portal has transported us through time, or more likely into some other reality."

"Parallel universe theory." Warrick said, remembering his days at the Academy. "The theory that there exist alternate realities to our own, where things happened differently, for every possible action or state of existence there exists an alternate reality where that is true."

"In essence, yes." Fockewulf replied, "It is possible that we have been dropped into one such parallel universe, that would explain the irreconcilable history the age old human civilization, entirely different technological base and the completely alien culture. I find it more likely now than ever that we are currently residing in a parallel universe, one where humanity is an age old spacefaring power, bound to worship their Emperor as a god, and dominated by xenophobia and religious paranoia."

Warrick shook his head, not liking the picture. "Come on, let's keep reading." He said, replacing the tome and grabbing another off the shelf.

As always, reviews are most welcome.


	3. Into the Black

Chapter 3: Into the Black

Both the PDF general, and SDF admiral sat down, ready to give their reports to the inquisitor. Gaius stood beside the seated member of the Ordo Xenos, lending his imposing presence to the gathering.

"Have the PDF found anything?" Inquisitor Graves asked, looking over his reports.

"Not as yet milord." The general of the Planetary Defense Force replied nervously, "But the searches continue. Thus far several arrests have been made, and we are continuing to"

"You have nothing, is that a correct assessment of the situation?" Graves said, in a steely tone.

"That, could be considered accurate." The general said, nervously. "Thus far nothing out of the ordinary has been observed, it is entirely possible that what we are looking for is not there to be found."

Graves' frown deepened at the news, or rather the lack of it.

"I highly doubt that these visitors have arrived through such a dramatic means to simply hover at the system's edge and do nothing. They have some plan, it is up to you to discover it. Continue your searches, there must be something down there."

The general bowed his head, nodding profusely.

"And admiral," Graves' asked next "What of the space front? Is there any progress to report there?"

The admiral pulled himself straighter in his chair, refusing to quail like his land bound counterpart.

"Nothing positive as of yet milord. By your command the defense fleet has been turned out. Patrol boats are stationed to defend the mining rigs in the outer system. The rest have been deployed to scour the outer rim of the system for signs of the enemy ship. We are also employing a number of civilian ships hired on as help. They're scanning likely hiding spots."

"And?" Graves asked pointedly, "What have they discovered?"

"At the moment, nothing milord. There have been a few readings that may have indicated the presence of a ship, but if it was there it is long gone by the time our vessels arrive. If the ship is still within the system, whatever is crewing it is very skilled at remaining undetected. On that issue milord, how can we be sure that they are still in this area?"

Graves interlaced his fingers, contemplating. He did not like to admit when he was working on assumptions.

"Call it a hunch admiral, but I find it unlikely that they would arrive through such dramatic means, if they didn't have a plan for the system. The ship expended a very large amount of energy in the process of arriving, and it also bothered arriving in this specific system."

The inquisitor stopped for a moment, thinking.

"Simply put there is no solid proof they are still here, but until such a time passes that we can consider the system safe from them, we must assume that they are waiting out there, ready to strike at a moment's notice. If we are able to secure the system and find no trace of them, then it is indeed likely that they moved on. If that happens to be so, then I shall continue my search elsewhere."

The assembled leaders nodded, appreciating the gravity of the situation.

"Perhaps a personal touch is in order milord." Gaius said after a moment, the Marine's remark drawing the attention of the room.

"What do you mean, honored Astartes?" The general asked.

"What I suggest is that the Inquisitor makes a personal appearance down on the planet, a public one at that. Inspect the capitol, speak to the governor, give words to the troops."

The general looked confused and opened his mouth but Graves cut him off,

"I begin to see your point old friend, it would galvanize the people to action, every loyal citizen would turn out to assist in the search. And if there are infiltrators on the surface, how could they miss the chance to approach an Inquisitor?"

"And when they do," Gaius said, reaching out his great hand, "We shall be waiting." He closed the massive fist with a determined glint in his eye.

Graves smiled like a wolf, details of the plan flashing through his mind.

"It's settled then, we shall go down as soon as preparations are complete. General, admiral, please help see to the preparations. Full military parade I think, let's make as big a spectacle as we can. I also want it cleared for a personal address from myself to the people over the vox, in addition to whatever the governor feels like saying."

The Inquisitor looked around the room, the officers nodding and making notes on dataslates. Gaius allowed himself a pleased grin. If there were any infiltrators from the strange ship, they would be drawn to the spectacle the Inquisitor was about to make. And when they came out of the shadows to take a look, Gaius would be there waiting. He had many questions he wanted answered, and the prospect of wringing the truth out of whatever xeno scum were behind this was something the Ultramarine relished very much indeed.

On the planet below…  
Warrick closed the book in his hands. It had been the last remaining un-scanned tome in the temple's small library. The spartan closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed deeply.

Over the past two hours he'd been on the receiving end of a massive dump of information, very little of it good. Most of it was simply elaborating on what they had already learned regarding the history of the Imperium of Man, or on how the Emperor led his legions in a glorious conquest of the stars and reunited the lost colonies of humanity.

A little more disturbing was the rampant xenophobia which was inherent in every level of the history, anything that was not pure human was wiped out as fast as the Imperium could bring its military to bear.

And then there was the obsession with hunting down heresy, as well as the graphic depictions of what happened when they caught the so called heretics. What followed for those unfortunates was usually death by horrific torture. Things disgusting enough to make Warrick ball his fists in anger.

"So," He said, pushing the book away distastefully, "What shall we do now? We seem to have a solid enough handle on the local history, and the unpleasant implications that it poses for us."

"Well, I'm relaying the information we gathered back to the Wotan via our spy satellite," Fockewulf said, "so they'll know what we do just as soon as the transmission reaches them. In the meantime the operation here is still good, our cover is intact. I advise further close study of the local population. Go around and talk to the people, try to get a more personal view of the culture. This is only a general broad history, and even then it's the sanitized official version. It would be very beneficial to get a more honest view of how things work here, and that's something only the people themselves can provide."

Warrick replaced the book, rising from his chair.

"Very well, I'll get on it. Though I need to keep a low profile, I stand out enough around here without asking odd questions."

"Just whatever happens, don't slander their beloved God Emperor, or they'll burn you alive." Fockewulf cut in, "Other than that just try not to make too many waves. This seems to be a trading hub of some kind, so off world visitors shouldn't be all that odd considering the traffic that comes through here. Pretend you're a visitor from another planet and your culture is different from the locals. Just make sure that you're trying to blend in with the local customs."

Warrick nodded, the best lies were always built around the truth. As he exited the building, the mauled priest looked up again from his parchments,

"Did you find what you were looking for?" He asked curiously.

"I think I have a start," Warrick said, "But I have to keep going."

"Best of luck then." The priest said, bowing his head, "May the Emperor watch over you."

Warrick bowed his head as well, "I am sure He does." Before walking out into the street.

"Maybe he can spare a little fortune for me." He muttered, before walking off.

On the fringes of the system…

"Is this satisfactory?" a mechanical voice from the wall asked, speaking in a flawless imitation of the Kig-Yar language.

Seth looked over the room, noting with some distaste that there were four bunks crammed into the small space. It seemed that he would be sharing the room with three other inhabitants.

It was nothing he hadn't done before of course, but the drake admitted to himself that he had gotten used to the privileges of rank. Seth had had his own room on the Righteous Indignation.

"It will be fine." He grunted, slinging his backpack on a hook and settling in.

Thankfully humans and Skirmishers were about the same size, and had a similar build. So the bunk did look like it could house a member of his species.

"Good to hear!" The ship's construct said in a cheery voice, "Just let me know if you need anything!"

Seth shrugged, "I'll do that." The drake shook his head, before opening his bag. The Kig-Yar began sorting his meager belongings into the shelves and drawers he claimed as his own.

Damn humans, not having engines powerful enough to get them out. Damn Sangheili for dragging him into this in the first place. Damn Forerunners building a portal to who knows where. And damn him for ever choosing a life like this. Of course it could have been a lot worse, he could be dead, or stranded on a crippled ship, but once again he was lost and at the mercy of some damned flyboy.

And just when he thought his day couldn't get any more annoying, the door slid open behind him. Seth turned sharply, looking over the newcomers. Two Jackals and a single skirmisher were looking into the room.

Seth didn't know any of them, they must have been from another ship that came to assist the attack.

"This is where we were told to go." The Jackal at the front stated, as though waiting for a graven invitation.

"Oh come on, my feet are killing me!" The Skirmisher whined, poking him in the back until the smaller Kig-Yar moved and they all came into the cabin. "Hey, name's Kyron, this is Jax and Dakin." He gestured to the Jackals accompanying him. "I guess we're going to be bunking together for a while, yes?"

Seth suppressed a grimace, the sudden interruption was unwelcome. even if he hadn't exactly been doing anything important.

"Guess so," The drake replied. "This bunk is mine, those drawers are mine too, work out who goes where among yourselves." With that he sat down on his bed, curling up in the corner with a datapad. He ignored the trio as they fumbled around, going over his unit's report from the combat action on the forerunner relic world. Seth worked on assigning the proper share of loot for the families of his deceased drakes.

Every minute or so he glanced up in annoyance at the newcomers, who were carrying on in most irritating fashion. First they had squabbled over who got the top bunks, wrestling a bit for the privilege before the worst loser was relegated to sleeping near the floor. Then they argued on who got which drawers. Dakin posed that whoever brought the most gear should get more storage space, Jax said they should all have the same space, Kyron argued that he should decide who got what because he could beat them both in a fight. In the end, the third argument was the most effective, and the trio started throwing their gear into the drawers they had claimed.

His feathers slightly ruffled in annoyance at the interruption of the first moment he had to himself since this nightmare began, Seth rose from his bed, stowing the pad and walking for the door.

"Hey, where you off to?" Kyron asked casually, holding Jax back with one arm as the smaller Kig-Yar tried to force him away from a drawer he'd claimed.

"Elsewhere." Seth said simply, closing the door behind him before walking away.

Seth couldn't have given him a better answer if he had wanted to, he didn't know his way around this huge ship the humans had built for themselves, so he simply wandered aimlessly.

Most of the rescued crew was gone from the halls now, most likely getting themselves situated in their accommodations. The humans had somehow managed to find room for them all, though he suspected that more than one cargo bay had been lined with cots and blankets. He winced at the though of being packed in with barely enough room to breathe. The drake knew he was lucky to get actual quarters, even if he had to share it with unsavory company.

He wandered along the corridors, keeping a brisk walking pace. Sometimes one of the human crewmen he passed would ask him if he was lost or needed something, while others just simply glared at the skirmisher.

He always told the ones that asked no, though both statements could be considered entirely true in reality. Seth ignored the small amount of hatred and irritation that was directed his way. It didn't matter to him whether or not the whole crew liked him.

The drake turned a corner and passed an opening door, someone having just walked in. He caught a glimpse of a starscape through the door before it slid closed. His curiosity now piqued, the drake walked in.

Seth stood there for a moment, staring at what lay before him. The room was an observatory of sorts, a huge window in the wall offering a perfectly clear view of the space beyond.

The window was unbroken by any kind of support, and unmarred by even the slightest scratch or deformation. It was perfectly smooth and absolutely clear to the point where it seemed like a section of the hull had simply been removed and the atmosphere was simply showing the common decency to not rush through it yet.

Seth took several automatic steps towards the brilliant vista laid out before him, looking at the soft light of the stars, and seeing the occasional asteroid floating in the distance, just specks floating in the void.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Asked a deep, somewhat familiar voice.

Seth turned to see a Sangheili sitting down near him, watching the stars with clear appreciation. He recognized the male as the Special Operations commander he had met on the evacuation shuttle.

"It is." He said quickly, turning his gaze about to examine the room now that the starfield wasn't taking up all his attention. It seemed this was a kind of lounge, with chairs and tables set up to offer a nice view of the stars, with what seemed to be a small, quiet bar in the corner.

He had never seen something like this on any ship he had served on. It was so, decadent was the word that came to mind. It was such a waste of space and resources, it was almost obscene. But he had to admit, for all that it was a stunning view.

"I needed to get away for a bit." Seth said, sitting down on a padded chair that was thankfully fairly compatible with his body. "After everything that's happened I needed a little time to think, collect myself, if you understand."

The Sangheili nodded, his gaze turning back to the stars.

"I felt restless as well, and came here to meditate, it helps to clear the mind in times of worry." He looked serenely out through the perfectly clear window, his breathing deep and steady.

"I thought this wouldn't be that stressful for you, honestly. Going far from home on dangerous missions is normal for you isn't it? I could be mistaken though." It was strange to see a Sangheili discuss his emotions like this, they were normally such private creatures, and not given to showing anything that could even be considered to be a weakness.

"We are better at hiding our fear, that is true." He said, his voice smooth and contemplative, like water over smooth rocks. "But our doubts and worries never go away. We are lost and far from home. Who can say if we will ever wander back to where we were before. No, we never stop being afraid, especially when someone we care about is in danger." He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again, breathing deeply. "Pardon my ramblings, I have said enough."

Seth nodded, looking back to the cold, distant stars. He at once felt very small and alone, a realization striking him. No matter how far the ship flew, or how hard he ran, he would never find his way home that way.

The light of his home star was not among those tiny points of light glimmering in the endless void, He was far from his home, further from home than any Kig-Yar had ever been. Seth shuffled a bit in his seat, feeling a little cold despite the warmth of the room. Well at least there are others Kig-Yar here as well.

"I understand that, we have to be strong, or seem strong at least." He looked at the decking beneath him, not feeling very strong at all at the moment. "We have been dealt a poor hand by fate, Sangheili. Who knows where it will end, or if we will ever see home again."

The elite nodded, taking a deep breath. "It will end where it will. In the meantime all we can do is wait for the moment in which we are needed. Until then, I intend to watch the stars and think."

Seth nodded, looking out into the great void of space with the Sangheili. "I think I will watch with you, for a while." He replied, standing watch over the gulf of stars. Who knew what dangers and surprises hid there, waiting to swallow them up.

Back on the planet…

Inquisitor Tyburn Graves stepped off of the Aquila transport, looking around at the landing field. The crisp morning air blew around him, making his coat billow dramatically behind him as he walked revealing the plasma pistol and power sword holstered on his broad belt.

A full platoon of PDF troopers snapped to attention, presenting their lasguns with commendable discipline. The local troops were all that was left over after the majority of the experienced ones were tithed to the proper Guard, but they were a solid lot, fairly competent at what they did. Though the best had long since been taken into active service by the Munitorum.

Nevertheless, Graves nodded to the men as he passed, his hands clasped behind his back. He conducted himself as an officer inspecting the men, a subconscious message instilling them with a sense of duty and pride. He approved of the troops appearance and approached the other side of the landing pad where an elegant state car was waiting.

The valet attending it swept the door open for him, the Inquisitor climbing inside the luxury vehicle.

Inside a government staffer was waiting for him, dataslate at the ready. The Inquisitor helped himself to a little of the Governors Amasec, then turned to the official.

"Greetings milord, I am secretary Underwood, personal advisor and assistant to the Governor. I will be coordinating with you on the events you have planned in the capitol."

The Inquisitor nodded. "I trust my list of requirements came through?" he asked, sipping his drink as the chauffeur pulled away smoothly, heading towards the Governor's Palace.

"They have milord, and are already being set in motion." He said, looking over the slate, probably an itinerary of the setup the Inquisitor had requested. Of course, when the Inquisition requests something, only fools and heretics would dare refuse. "The preparations are underway, the PDF units stationed in the city are preparing for parade duty, they should be ready tomorrow. They were put on alert ever since the incident in orbit, so they were already prepared to deploy at a moment's notice."

Graves nodded, his opinion of the PDF general improving by a small margin.

"Good, good. Tell me, how widespread is the knowledge of what happened in orbit?"

The staffer winced a bit, scrolling through his slate. "Word is spreading milord. There were simply too many civilian ships and observation stations to keep it quiet for very long. News is spreading by word of mouth but a few of the news groups are talking about an unknown incident in orbit. The governor has planned on revealing enough information to galvanize the populace without revealing too much, telling the people that there was an incident with an unknown ship that could be a threat."

The inquisitor nodded. "A wise move on the Governor's part, that should keep paranoia from getting too out of hand." A little paranoia can be a useful tool, but when people start turning on each other out of fear it all but guaranteed that the true culprits ran free, Graves had seen that all too many times before. "Once the Governor has made his speech, I will address the people myself. Make a personal call upon them form the Inquisition, while we keep the PDF on parade and in the streets."

The Secretary nodded. "That should certainly get the people moving milord. We've already started forming volunteer defense groups, that should at least triple turnouts from the civilians."

The Inquisitor turned and looked out of the armorcrys window, watching the crowds of people going by on their daily business. The hum and bustle of a normal, healthy imperial world just going about its life. He wondered how long it would stay like that, if this healthy planet would continue on its path unharmed. If whether these streets would be choked with burning corpses by the end of the week.

It was never something he liked to contemplate, but an Inquisitors life is not an easy one. Graves grit his teeth, wondering where in the world his infiltrators were, if they were here at all.

Just a few feet away…

Warrick watched as the motorcade drove by, wondering who was important enough to warrant such a display as they moved. Local law enforcement was riding escort on motorcycles, a big black luxury car driving down the street.

His augmented eyes caught a brief glimpse of a figure sitting in the back seat, but the windows were tinted beyond his ability to see through without the aid of his helmet's VISR system. . He shrugged, walking off in the direction that the motorcade had been going.

"Looks like somebody important is on the move." Shadow said into his earpiece, the Spartan no doubt tracking the car as it moved. "Wonder if that's normal of if we've stirred something up."

Warrick looked around, his glasses feeding his friend a visual on the crowd.

"I think this must be a rare event, look at the crowd, they're all excited. Something's got them antsy." He said. True to his word, the whole crowd seemed a little spooked by the passing vehicles, watching they go by with interest and then quickly talking to each other in hushed voices.

"That or they're just excited to see their head of state or whoever drive by, that's a normal response." Fockewulf replied, the Spartan silently agree with him.

One of the main problems facing them here was that they didn't know what responses were normal, and what was really worth noting. The seeming martial law and religious focus was very strange by Warrick's standards, but for these people it seemed to be business as normal. Nothing really worth getting too worked up about.

It gave a lot of clues about how their culture worked, if they were this used to seeing a very strong military presence in their streets with no real protest. On a fair number of UNSC colonies a military deployment like this would elicit at least a decently sized protest, if not a full on riot if things got out of hand.

He kept walking, the AI talking his ear off about various societal factors, probable social values, and the significance of their leaders in everyday life. Warrick politely tuned him out after a while, instead focusing on the people around him rather than the chatterbox AI going on and on about the union of church and state.

He wondered what was going to happen in the next few days, probably something interesting if recent events were any indication, who knows what might happen?

The Spartan walked on through the crowd while Fockewulf talked himself in circles, seeming ecstatic about all the raw data he got to process. It must have been refreshing for the AI to get to work on something other than slipspace jump coordinates or firing solutions. Warrick continued on through the alien city, the day wearing on, with nothing else really happening.

The tension he felt on the streets was still there, hanging over him like the sword of Damocles, about to fall.

A day passed, the situation remained more or less unchanged. Warrick was still awake however, the Spartan able to go for at least two days without rest. Of course it helped he was doing nothing more strenuous than just walking around.

There was no communication with the Wotan, it was too risky to send a message to or from their ship, lest it reveal the positions of either party. So he continued his close observation, his two companions still moving through the shadows.

Fockewulf had been monitoring a few communications channels, finding something akin to a news cast, though not quite like anything he'd heard before.

It had a large number of religious overtones, which was exactly as he had come to expect by now. Furthermore, the issues the channel talked about were not the standard news fare he had come to expect from the civilian media.

There was no celebrity gossip here, no breaking scandals, simply announcements of important happenings and the discussion of planetary events, interspersed with hymns and prayer sessions.

Of particular interest to the group sneaking through the capitol was talk about the Wotan, though it seemed that the civilians on this planet didn't know too much about it seemed to only tell the basics, that there had been an incident with an unknown, presumed hostile vessel in the skies above, and that the military had been deployed to try and hunt down the intruders into their fair system.

Warrick grimaced a bit at how the newscaster waxed poetic about the terrible fire of the Emperor's wrath being brought down upon the heathens and heretics come to plague their pious, holy system with terror and deceit.

He shook his head, the paranoia these people exhibited was almost beyond belief. All the Wotan had done was get dumped in this system against its will and then promptly hide without bothering anyone. But the locals here treated it as a full scale invasion and called out their entire military.

On a somewhat less depressing note, it seemed that there was going to be some kind of major event in town today, the whole city seemed to be rushing to prepare for some sort of lavish celebration.

It seemed that the planetary governor was going to make an appearance. There was going to be some kind of speech along with a military parade.

A lot of Warrick's instincts were telling him that it was going to be risky staying around for the show. But he had to ignore feelings like that, or at least control them. An event like this had the potential to be a gold mine for their mission. There would potentially be a treasure trove of information available.

A front row seat to a major social event in this strange culture would be helpful to say the least. Fockewulf was practically salivating at the prospect of getting to analyze all that data.

So, somewhat against his better judgment, Warrick found himself standing upon the roadside as the first units of the Planetary Defense Force started rolling by in a massive parade.

Warrick had to say, he was somewhat impressed, if for nothing other than the scale of the military might being displayed. Large APCs rolled by, polished and shined, with medieval looking heraldry painted on their hulls.

Shadow was up on a rooftop overlooking the huge main street the parade was rolling down. The Spartan used his VISR scanners to let Fockewulf analyze the vehicles as they passed.

"Heavy armor, but nothing like a real tank." The AI speculated as he scanned the passing transports. "Design seems fairly crude but sturdy, probably a reliable design that sacrifices advanced features for tenacity. That turret weapon has no feeding system for ammo, only power units. If I had to say it's a directed energy weapon, likely a laser of some description."

Warrick was a tad envious, a laser armed APC would be nice in certain situations, but those things didn't look nearly as maneuverable or fast as a Warthog. Mount a rail gun on one of those and you have a potent skirmish machine.

The Spartan heard the rumbling long before he saw the tanks, the rhomboid vehicles trundling along, vomiting black smoke into the air as they went. They seemed incredibly crude, like something out of an ancient historical vid, but they each mounted some serious firepower in the main turret and sponsons.

"Same story with these, the tanks are big and ugly. Armor is thick, but doesn't seem terribly advanced. The armor is simply slabs of solid metal, all passive defenses, nothing active. I'm not seeing anti missile systems or any kind of ECM gear at all. The design seems pretty tough though, probably has a decent survival chance against even heavy weapons. The rhomboid design is laughably crude by our standards, and that thing is so damn tall. The target profile on that tank is huge though, it's a rolling bunker. Thick armor but at that size it will need it, it's going to be drawing all the fire in the battle-zone."

Warrick had to agree, the sheer size of the bore on that main gun was almost comical in how wide it was, the shells it must throw had to be huge in comparison to similarly sized UNSC tanks.

Next up came rows of marching infantry, their precisely timed boots slapping the ground in unison as they marched along, rifles at the port and chins held high.

Warrick admired their discipline, but he wasn't too impressed by their standard gear. Despite their advanced small arms, more lasers it looked like, their standard battle gear was simply laughable. No advanced readouts, no communications gear, no computer devices or battlefield network systems. The UNSC employed communications gear that let an officer in orbit find a trooper on the surface, from the scans he was seeing these soldiers didn't even have individual radios.

A fight against this army would be a battle against a clumsy goliath, big and powerful but slow to communicate and react. It was a bit early to be making sweeping generalizations, but everything he saw pointed to an army with very little high tech to go around, despite its obviously powerful armaments.

Then, once the parade had passed for the moment, all eyes turned to the projector screens that had been set up at regular intervals along the street. It seemed that the governor's address to the people was about to begin. Warrick watched intently, curious to see what the leader of these strange people would have to say in this moment of perceived crisis.

Inquisitor Graves stood behind the planetary governor, waiting for the man to make his speech to the people. Governor Drexal the Fifteenth seemed a just and fair man, well loved by his people and obedient to the Imperium at large. He, and his forebears, had kept the world humming along smoothly for centuries. Their fair globe never having attracted the attention of the wider Imperium before. This unfortunate series of events was the first time something had been enough of a concert to merit official involvement from higher authorities.

The Governor was a solidly built man, having served for a number of years in the PDF. Though he had gone a bit soft around the edges in the years since taking up the reigns of the family dynasty and assuming governorship after the fourteenth of his line had passed away.

Graves had reviewed his record before his arrival and had to say the man seemed like someone who could be respected, at least so far as politics went. Now he stood upon a balcony overlooking the palace grounds, what seemed like a thousand pictcasters trained on him.

"Loyal citizens of the Imperium, hear me." He began, his expression firm, his voice strong. "For some time now, you have been aware of an unusual level of military activity on the streets of our fair world. I know that many of you are curious as to what is the cause of this sudden activity, perhaps worrying that you have done something wrong. Let me be the first to assure you that the fault lies not with you, my loyal citizens. You have served ably and loyally. No, the fault lies with another, with outsiders who now threaten our fair and holy world.

Some of you have no doubt heard rumors of an incident some days ago. Above our world there was an incident that required deployment of the System Defense Force, because a strange observance of light in the night sky. Today I come to relieve your curiosity and inform you of the situation. A strange ship, classification and origin unknown entered our system through a strange portal. The craft did not seem to be one of the blessed designs of the Imperium, nor did it seem to be from one of the known races of vile xenos which plague us all. At present, the origin of this craft is unknown, as is its location. Upon entering our system the craft swiftly withdrew and is believed to be hiding on the fringes of the system.

I know you are worried, but I ask you not to live in fear of this ship. Even now the gallant crews of the System Defence Force are hunting the intruder down. Thus far they prevented it from penetrating the space near our world again. However, it is believed that a number of infiltrators, saboteurs or spies could have evaded our brave forces, and are even now on our world. It is possible that they are even disguised as our own people. To that end the brave forces of our PDF have been deployed to seek out these spies, and to keep our world safe and pure. Despair not my people, for even more powerful authorities have come to our aid. The Holy Imperium would never forsake one of its sovereign worlds. To that end, one of His Majesty's most formidable servants has come personally to aid us in our plight. I beg that you give him your utmost attention and support to him."

The Governor stepped down from the podium, allowing Graves to take his place. The Inquisitor had to admit, it had been a good speech.

"Loyal subjects of His Divine Majesty, harken to me." He began, looking out over the assembled crowd. "I am Inquisitor Tyburn Graves, special agent of His Majesty himself, sent to aid you in your plight. I tell you that I have battled the foul xeno many times in the past, and I have beaten them, sent them scurrying back to the hole he has climbed out of. However, I am but one man, and the enemy is many. I call upon you, good citizens of the Imperium, to aid me in my holy mission. By the wisdom of your Governor volunteer defense and security organizations have already begun to form. I implore all able citizens to join these groups for the security of your world. Together we shall defeat this menace, and send them fleeing into the black void of space."

He held his Imperious gaze over the crowd as the assembled citizens began cheering. Once satisfied with the response, he turned to leave, the Governor falling in beside him.

"Good speech, short and to the point." The man commended a grin on his face.

"You spoke well yourself." Graves commented, "I only needed to compliment what you said."

The Governor nodded, "Yes, now whatever happens will be seen as a victory. Either they find your infiltrators and destroy them, or they were never here, and they will think they scared the xenos off. Whatever happens morale will improve."

Graves allowed himself a small smile, this man played the game well indeed. "Quite, now I shall see to my own preparations. You see to your people. Thank you for your cooperation Governor." He said, walking off down the hall.

Now all that was needed was for him to wait, and see if his saboteurs took the bait. He only hoped Sergeant Gaius left him enough intact for him to question.

Warrick frowned after the broadcast was complete, the screens then switching over to yet another religious program.

The assembled people seemed spooked by the broadcast. They started talking and muttering. Several impromptu prayer sessions even broke out among the crowd.

The Spartan walked away from the nearest crowd, leaning up against a wall and talking into his tiny radio. "Thoughts?" He asked his teammates.

"Inquisitor, that caught my attention fast." The AI said, "In a society as religiously fanatical as this one such an official is likely very important."

"Not to mention the pomp and circumstance of his arrival." Shadow agreed, "That entire parade was likely for his benefit. This Inquisitor has gotten the kind of reception we reserve for heads of state."

Warrick mulled it over. "I know what you're thinking Fockewulf, and it's going to be risky."

The Spartan could practically hear the AI smirk. "True, but that man undoubtedly has a large wealth of information on his person, or at least nearby. If we could access his personal information then we'd have our hands on classified information, not this sanitized overly religious dross we've had access to so far. If you two can get us in I'm sure that I can hack my way through any kind of security he might have. Especially considering how primitive most of their technology seems to be."

Warrick considered it, he had thought of the same thing. This could easily be a once in a lifetime chance for them. It was unlikely they would have such a good chance to examine sensitive data like this again, or at least not for a long time.

"Alright, I'll give my green light. We'll return to the Prowler so I can armor up, I'm not going in there naked." He said, walking briskly back towards the outskirts of the city. "We'll return under the cover of nightfall, and do this properly."

As the super soldier walked, he passed by the statues of the huge armored warriors again. The eyes seemed to follow him as he walked, staring down at him like an insect. The Spartan was glad he didn't have to face something like that on this mission.

That night, Warrick returned to the city now clad head to toe in his Mjolnir battle armor. The Spartan IV had also picked up a passenger. His mind currently filled with the liquid ice that he had come to associate with an AI. Fockewulf had tagged along in his suit this time, reasoning that the team leader was most likely to have access to the data they were looking for.

"You know, I could get used to field work, it's a nice change from being cooped up in the Wotan's mainframe." The AI mused as they moved through the city, using jet packs to hop between rooftops to evade the patrols on the streets.

"We'll see." Warrick grumbled, not entirely sure he liked sharing his brain with the synthetic intelligence. He was proving useful however, monitoring the sporadic communications between the PDF units moving across the streets below.

He'd highlighted a path over the roofs of the city, guiding the Spartans along a route that was lightly patrolled. Like a pair of ghosts the two supersoldiers slipped through the city without raising any alarm greater than a few spooked birds.

They arrived at the palace not long after, the two Spartans crouched on a wall, scanning the grounds with their VISRs.

"Tough nut to crack." Shadow said.

"That's a bit of an understatement." Warrick agreed, looking at the troops arrayed to guard the facility. It seemed that several large groups of troopers were marching around the grounds. Tanks were stationed on either side of the gates leading through the heavily fortified walls defending the compound itself. Within the walls stretched a series of gardens and open grounds, patrolled at intervals by even more marching guards. Further inside the palace itself was defended by additional men, and what seemed to be some kind of walker vehicle.

The machine looked like a box on two legs, with a large weapon mounted on the cockpit.

"I think we can get in though," Warrick stated, "Fockewulf, anything you can tell us?" The commander asked.

The AI overlaid Warrick's HUD with weak points and entry vectors, as well as the fire lanes of weapons emplacements in the guard towers spaced around the walls.

"I'm not seeing any kind of automated security, so I wouldn't worry too much about cameras or sentry guns. I advise activating your cloak and scaling the wall here." He put up a waypoint on his HUD, "I'll broadcast false orders to the guards on that stretch and tell them to move off until we make it inside."

"You can do that?" Warrick asked, a little impressed.

"Please, these primitives don't even have encrypted communications. Anyone on their frequency could tap in and broadcast, I've listened to their commander enough to imitate his voice. Over the static on their comm nobody will be able to tell I'm not him."

The Spartan nodded, the plan seeming like their best bet. "Right, let's do it. Shadow you ready?"

"Hooah." The supersoldiers replied.

"Hooah!" Warrick smirked, dropping off of the rooftop, pulsing his jetpack to slow his fall, impacting with a gentle thud. They moved across the street, totally invisible against the dark pavement, and scaled the wall.

True to Fockewulf's word, there was nobody waiting for them atop the structure. Warrick spotted the back of one of the troopers as he turned the corner away from him, momentarily distracted by peering into an empty blot of shadows.

There were stairs on the other side of the wall. The two Spartans however took shelter in a shadowed nook to let their suits recharge.

"Okay, what next Fockewulf?" Warrick asked, the AI seeming to have everything planned out.

"The guards are disciplined, but thankfully that makes them predictable. I've timed their patrol routes and the movements of the search lights, move where I say, when I say and keep your cloaks up. We should be able to cross the grounds without incident.

Warrick nodded, waiting as the timer on his HUD ran out before following the glowing trail the AI lined out on the ground. Reaching a clump of shrubs the Spartan stopped as his suit recharged.

Thankfully UNSC science had made great improvements to the cloak units, so they were much more effective in every way to the older models. However it was still a good idea to turn them off and let the suit recharge, every while, that is unless you wanted to get into an awkward situation without any power left.

The pair moved between shrubs, trees and bushes, stopping in the shadows to top off their power reserves yet again, before slinking further and further across the grounds.

At times the eyes of the guards passed right over them, the Spartans all but invisible as they passed by. Soon, they had reached the palace itself, easily jumping and climbing up to a second floor balcony. Fockewulf scanned the door with Warrick's VISR, finding no traps or alarms, so they simply moved inside.

"Right, now we just have to find where in this building our Inquisitor is located, with absolutely no information pertaining to where he might be." Warrick sighed, peeking a fiber optic probe around the corner to watch as a team of troopers walked by.

"Well, I have an idea actually, just a rough location mind you." The AI said, "I've heard a bit of comm chatter about guarding the Inquisitors chambers, and then traced the radio that sent it, and the ones that responded to it. Given that info, I have a rough location on where he should be. Inside that area though, you're on your own."

Warrick had to admit, the AI was growing on him. "Right, let's move." He ordered, following the waypoint Fockewulf lit up for him, and engaging his cloak whenever the motion sensor picked up movement on the edge of its range.

As they went along, Warrick noticed that the patrols seemed to be lightening the further they went into the huge structure. The groups of units becoming more and more sporadic as they went, before ceasing altogether.

The spartan gripped his sound suppressed Battle Rifle, not liking the situation. If this was the chambers of a highly important religious official, in a theocratic society, why would they not guard it? Something was up.

But of course there was nothing to do, but keep going further inside. It wasn't like they were about to just give up and leave. Maybe the Inquisitor just liked his privacy and assumed that any intruder would be caught by all the troops outside? That was a likely story, so they kept up the pace. The pair was nearing their destination when his motion tracker registered a target on the floor above them, a fairly big one. Warrick pointed up, a little dust falling from the ceiling as a low thumping noise was heard several large footfalls passing overhead.

"Sounds like a Hunter." Shadow observed when it had stopped. Warrick didn't like it but kept his mouth shut, continuing further on. Soon they came to a pair of ornate double doors, this had to be the place.

His scanners registered no motion on the other side of the door, so he snaked a fiber optic through the crack. The tiny camera on the end of the strand didn't show anything inside. The two Spartans breached the door smoothly, sliding inside and scanning the room. It seemed they were in an entrance hall, another pair of doors stationed on the other end.

The duo moved swiftly, breaching the next door as well, and sweeping into the room on the other side.

These chambers were much larger, opulently adorned with paintings and tapestries on the walls. However this group was completely dark, without their VISRs they Spartans would have been all but blind, even with their augs. But they could see just fine with their helmets on.

They moved in, passing through the entryway and moving towards another set of doors. Warrick looked around, something feeling off, but he could see nothing.

"Problem?" Shadow asked.

"No, but I feel like we're being watched." Which was not quite right, since they were invisible. Warrick walked into the next room, also dark. He almost jumped when he saw what was in the middle of the room, snapping his rifle up to aim at it.

He relaxed after a moment, it was just another statue. This one was like the ones in the street, but far more detailed. It too depicted a gargantuan humanoid warrior clad in heavy plates of armor, holding a very large gun.

But instead of being carved stone, this one was metal. Its gun looking very real. It could have been real, but the thing was standing perfectly still in the middle of the room, not moving even the tiniest amount.

"Spooky." Warrick commented, giving the black-painted statue a wide berth as he walked further in.

Then he noticed a tiny flicker on his motion sensor to his side, and turned to check it. His heart started beating a bit faster in his chest at what he saw.

It had took him a moment to notice, but the 'statue' had turned its head and was gazing right at where the cloaked Spartans were standing. The huge soldier turned on place and started walking towards them, its massive gun sweeping the room, searching for targets.

Gaius had been standing watch for hours by now, the marine standing stock still and staring at the door into the Inquisitor's sanctum, his weapon at the ready.

Kartal was watching the main entrance to the room he was in now, and the rest of his team was patrolling the building nearby. He was confident that his trap would work. All they had to do was wait for the enemy to come to them. So far they had all patiently waited even though nothing had been happening for a good half day.

Still, Gaius could wait, he would not allow impatience to risk him losing the opportunity to get his gauntlet around the throat of whoever was responsible for all of this.

The Astartes sensed something, and he glanced down to check his HUD. The suits autosenses had detected nothing out of the ordinary, but the Marine himself was sure that he had just felt something moving nearby. It was strange, just the faintest specter of movement where there was nothing at all.

"Kartal, report." He growled over the vox, the Raven guard responding instantly.

"Nothing out of the ordinary sir, situation normal. Is something wrong?"

"Possibly, there is strange contact in the Inquisitors quarters. Hold your position, I am investigating." He commanded. The Ultramarine turned his head towards the disturbance. There was nothing there now, it seemed the strange, almost imperceptible blur had stopped.

He held his gaze for a moment, thinking it over. He had been sure he'd seen something, but there was nothing there. Decades of warfare made the Astartes trust his instincts, leaving his position and walking over towards it.

He reached his hand out, sweeping through the air. The space marine had almost reached the wall when he saw the flicker again, the wall before him blurring for a moment as something moved fast, very fast.

He swung his hand and bolter, grabbing at air, catching nothing. Gaius snapped his bolter into a firing position, looking towards the Inquisitor's door, which swung slightly as a breeze passed over it.

"Team, I have an unknown contact in the Inquisitor's quarters!" Gaius reported, giving chase, "Unknown number of infiltrators using some form of cloaking technology, there could be more about, **so** stay alert search as you move towards my position, any flicker of movement could be an enemy." He briefed, rushing into the Inquisitors room.

The man himself was not there, instead the Inquisitor was sleeping in a nondescript bunk on the other end of the building. But the security didn't know that, setting up their defenses completely believably. There was of course no sensitive information inside the room, the whole thing being a ploy from the start.

It seemed that their trap had worked, but now the Astartes was having a little more trouble than he had thought bagging his intruders. Gaius burst into the interior chambers, scanning the room. It was deathly still, nothing moving at all. He swept in, covering the corners with his bolter, but not seeing anything despite the room being clear as day before his eyes. He heard a small sound, a kind of hissing, fizzling sound behind him. The Astartes turned just in time to see a small blue orb latch onto his right pauldron, glowing gently for a moment before exploding.

"Move!" Warrick ordered, slipping behind the behemoth. The plasma grenade had torn off a large portion of armor, and the force of the explosion had knocked him off balance.

That gave the Spartans enough time to escape the room. He heard the giant roaring behind him, the voice amplified and made louder by the speakers on his helmet.

Then he heard the shots. It sounded louder than any infantry weapon he'd heard before, excluding maybe a brute shot. Rounds tore past him and Shadow. But since they were still cloaked, it was harder to target them, so thankfully neither of them were hit. Although though some did get painfully close.

They moved slower than he would have liked, feeling that preserving stealth was more important than speed. The pair kept low and moved through the room, staying behind furniture as much as they could to avoid the direct gaze of their pursuer.

Thankfully, the giant didn't seem to have followed them just yet, his motion sensor seeming to indicate he'd entered a side room. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Warrick took off at a faster pace, his cloak wavering slightly as he moved.

"This was a trap!" He grunted, infuriated he'd fallen for the bait. "That whole spectacle was just to lure us in."

"You know, I kinda like the idea of spending my career back in the mainframe." Fockewulf said, the AI not seeming to know how to handle himself in a combat situation where the enemy was shooting directly at him. "Just keep your head down please, there are two of us in here."

Warrick was about to move again, when Shadow hissed over the radio. "Wait! Look there, above the door."

Warrick looked, his heart sinking a little at what he saw. There, perched in a nook above the door, was another black clad giant. The "man" if you could call it one was sweeping the room with its rifle. Had they entered before with their cloaks had turned off, it would have seen them for sure.

"Ok, it can't see us, let's move nice and easy." He said, creeping forward.

The duo moved slowly, practically undetectable, though even then the armored soldier started looking more and more in their direction. They were thirty feet from the door when he heard the crash behind him. Turning the spartans looked back to see the first soldier emerge into the room.

The titanic armored figure cocked back his arm and threw what seemed to be a large burlap sack into the air in the middle of the room. Warrick's eyes widened a bit as realized what was about to happen.

"Move, now!"

Gaius grimaced behind his helmet when he saw his bolts hit nothing but air, the intruders cloaks were good, it was nearly impossible for him to target them effectively. "Kartal, they're coming your way keep them from leaving the room." He ordered, taking a side route. The marine knew exactly where where he needed to go.

The chambers were opulent in the extreme, so of course they had an attached full kitchen. It's pantry stocked with enough supplies to put on a reasonably sized banquet. He rummaged through the supplies for a few moments before finding what he needed, grabbing a large sack and running back out into the main chamber.

"I'm watching the room sir, they're in here somewhere." Came Kartal's voice, calm as always despite the circumstances.

"Then let's find them." Gaius replied. Swinging his arm, and throwing the twenty pound sack of flour out into the room, before shooting it once.

The explosive bolt detonated inside the sack, spraying the room with fine, white powder. In an instant he saw something moving through the mist. More specifically two humanoid forms caked in the flour.

"There!" He roared, bringing his bolter up and firing. The bolts fell close to the mark, but the figures moving surprisingly fast, ducking through the hail of gunfire.

Finally the accumulated flour seemed to overwhelm their cloaks, Gaius getting his first solid look at the targets before they vanished into the entryway.

The pair were humanoid, tall, and clad in expensive looking black armor that concealed them from head to toe. Both of them carrying rifles. Well, at least neither of them seemed to have a weapon that could really threaten one of his people. Although that grenade they hit him with had been unlike anything he'd seen before. He glanced at his partially destroyed pauldron as he leaped into the room. The blast had wrenched his pauldron apart, melting and twisting the adamantine armor and leaving an ugly rent where it had ripped into his pauldron. Thankfully the internal systems seemed intact, but his pauldron would have to be heavily repaired.

Kartal landed on the floor, the hardwood crunching beneath him as he turned around to fire down the corridor. Gaius moved to the door just in time to see the two intruders rounding the corner, having sprinted down the long hall in mere moments.

The Ultramarine charged after them, keying his vox. "Team, hard contacts at my position. Two intruders using active camouflage of some form, though we have neutralized it for now. Though I do not know for how long. Seal off the corridors and converge here, trap them inside!" He rounded the corner and fired again, the bolt taking one of the figures in the shoulder.

But instead of the spray of blood and gore he usually associated with his weapon hitting a human, instead the figure only stumbled, a bright shimmer appearing to stop if from hitting his armor. The hostile kept running as though nothing serious had happened.

Just who were these intruders? The Marine wondered as he chased them down, his thunderous footfalls echoing off the walls as he ran. He relayed their position over the vox, very surprised he hadn't been able to catch them on foot. No unaugmented human could outrun an Astartes! "I've got them cornered!" Ulrich said, "I've got them!"

"What the hell did he hit me with!" Warrick demanded, his shoulder throbbing in pain despite his suits attempts to medicate him, "Some kind of rocket launcher?" A single hit from that thing's rifle had taken nearly half of his shields away, and knocked him two feet forward. The spartan almost falling him over.

Thankfully his shields had absorbed the explosion of whatever round he'd been hit by, so his armor itself was undamaged. He wouldn't have liked to see what would have happened if two or more of those shots had landed. A quick burst would have ripped his shields apart had they all hit.

The Spartan didn't like to contemplate how well his armor would stand up against that weapon, it was a test he would like to save for another day.

"Contact!" He said, turning in place to face the large blob on his motion sensor. Something was coming down the hallway towards him. It was another armored warrior, different from the ones before.

This one was wearing furs and bones over its armor, and holding a pair of axes in his hands. The Spartan reacted far faster than any mortal man could. His nervous system had been augmented by the Spartan program, giving him a far faster reaction speed than any normal human. The Spartan reacted almost instantly, bringing his rifle up and firing.

The Battle Rifle coughed its suppressed rounds, which pinged harmlessly off of the enemy's armor. Reacting more on instinct, and desperation than thought. Warrick reached down with his right hand and drew his plasma pistol, before switching it to the overcharge mode. A moment later the gun released the charge, sinking a bulky bolt of plasma right into the giants chest.

The plasma crashed into the warriors chest, charring his armor lightly. But outright killing the warrior had not been his intention. The EMP effect seeming to lock his suit up, making him stumble and fall.

Warrick leapt aside, the warrior's momentum carrying him though the air, before skidding across the floor. The giant smashed into the wall, punching a hole into the masonry.

Warrick holstered his pistol, taking off running down the hall. The Spartan saw lots of contacts on the edge of his motion sensors as troops were starting to converge on his position.

"We can't get out of here with those monsters on our tail." He said, the contacts not far behind on his motion sensor, even more starting to close in, the same big blobs on his screen. It was then that a sudden bolt of inspiration hit him. "Fockewulf, I have an idea!"

"I do not have them." Came Ulrich's voice over the vox a few moments later. The Marine sounding infuriated and disappointed through the heavy static that filled his vox channel. Gaius turned the corner to see the Space Wolf pulling himself out of a hole in the wall, brushing crushed brick off of his armor and furs.

"Are you alright brother?" The Ultramarine asked, seeing his blackened chest piece, the armor was actually slightly warped from the impact of whatever weapon the enemy had used.

"I am fine brother, they used some kind of strange weapon. Whatever it was, the it locked up my suit and made me… trip." The Astartes grimaced, the proud Wolf not wanting to admit that he had simply fallen over.

"Come brother, let us take our revenge." Gaius said, appealing to the Wolf's desire for vengeance and chasing after the intruders. His two squad mates falling in behind him. The other two members of his team were converging as Gaius broke into the next room. The Marine saw one of the figures standing at the other end of the room, but he was not alone.

The armored soldier was holding a terrified looking woman, his handgun pressed against her temple. Gaius brought his bolter up, aiming at the man and his hostage."Let the woman go!" He ordered, closing in as Ulrich and Kartal fanned out, blocking his escape.

"Not before you allow me to leave." The intruder replied stoically. His voice was strong and lacking any fear. But he sounded human, although the marine couldn't be entirely sure. If he pulled the trigger the bolt would kill them both, but he preferred to keep those in the emperors service alive until there was no other option.

"Coward!" Ulrich roared, brandishing his axes. "How dare you a shield, I will tear you apart you wretched, filthy whoreson!" He yelled, obviously enraged almost beyond reason.

"Ulrich, control yourself." Gaius ordered, the Wolf calming slightly, before the Ultra looked back to the intruder and his hostage. "You know you cannot escape us, we have you completely surrounded. You have been caught infiltrating the governors palace and the chambers of an Imperial Inquisitor. It is over. Surrender and release your hostage, it's possible that the Inquisitor may be… lenient with you." He said, his voice calm and even.

As he spoke, Xavier and Mendoza entered the room, training their weapons on the intruder and issuing various threats, Xavier especially outraged at the use of a civilian as a shield.

"No, this ends with me walking free, no other deals will be made." The soldier said, staring him down. Gaius stared back, the small red eyepieces on the soldiers helmet not unlike his own.

"You cannot hope to escape five of The Emperors Space Marines, if you think you can then you are a fool. Give up now and I will not kill you. But if you harm that woman in any way, I will make you beg for the release of death." He promised, his finger resting lightly on the bolter, ready to pull the trigger at a moment's notice.

"I told you-" The man said as Gaius fired. The bolt impacted the wall just beside his shoulder, the man twitching slightly to look at the shower of masonry. Gaius leapt forward, pulling the gun away from the woman and gently pushing the civilian aside. Or at least… he tried to. The Ultramarine's hands were still quite empty, and the soldier was standing exactly where he had been a moment ago.

The intruder released the girl, the hololithic woman fading from existence. "Actually you can't stop us from escaping, we escaped a minute ago. But thank you for keeping all your forces bottled up here, we couldn't have done it without you." The armored figure chuckled, voice warping.

Gaius roared in anger, waving his bolter through the image, the figure fading away as he did so. He turned to his team, who all seemed slightly stunned at the incredibly lifelike image they had seen.

"Fan out, we may still catch them!" He said, crashing through the many hallways and passages of the palace. The marine voxing the Inquisitor in the process.

"Yes Gaius?" Graves asked, "The whole palace is on the alert, what happened?"

"The intruders came, and penetrated the chambers we were guarding… they escaped me." He admitted, his heart heavy, voice not wanting to speak the words.

"I see." The Inquisitor said simply. "Do what you can Gaius, that is all I can ever ask of you." He said as he closed the channel.

Gaius continued the search, until the entire palace checked from top to bottom. However it seemed that the attackers had evaded him. The PDF troops on the grounds didn't catch anything either, but considering those soldiers cloaking ability he wasn't surprised at all.

The city was quickly locked down and an extensive search conducted, but nothing was found. It seemed that their two infiltrators, and whatever accomplices they had brought, were long gone before their response could be marshaled.

Gaius glared up at the night sky, knowing that somewhere out there that ship was lurking, with the two infiltrators and Emperor along knew how many other enemies of the Imperium.

He clenched his armored fists, wishing he was closing them around that black armored soldier's throat. Someday, he promised himself, someday.

In the upper atmosphere…

Warrick, and Shadow both sat down on a reinforced bench aboard the Prowler. Neither Spartan felt like removing their armor so soon after their escape. It was an instinctual response to the near brush they had with the power armored behemoths back in the palace.

The Prowler itself was currently knifing through the upper atmosphere, an invisible specter as it set course for the Wotan.

Shadow was sitting across from Warrick, and Fockewulf's projection sat on the table before them. Beside him there was a small projected model of one of the armored soldiers they had faced. The AI was currently going over the data he had collected during their escape, his avatar standing before a large holographic copy of the hostile.

"This alloy has a different signature to anything I've seen before, I'll have to get some samples to be able to tell more though. As for the armor itself, it's quite nimble despite its somewhat clunky appearance. Limb rotation range is good is most places, and it's armor is extremely thick. The helmet likely houses automated sensor gear, judging by the shape of the external case."

The AI walked slowly around the armor, seeming to examine it from different angles. "I also saw indication of greatly improved reaction time based on the movements, and how the soldiers acted during the pursuit. The general shape of the armor seems to indicate radical body alterations to the subjects wearing them."

Warrick cocked his head, "Like the Spartan Program? Augmented supersoldiers?"

The AI shook his head. "No, not like Spartans, these figures wouldn't be shaped quite like normal humans anymore if they fit into this armor. I'd love to get inside one and take a look at the operator, the augmentations are likely quite advanced, we might be able to learn a thing or two from them."

Warrick nodded, looking at a floating model of the gun they had used. "They packed a lot of firepower, that thing's weapon hurt. My shield was taken halfway down, and after only one shot too. Considering it's an automatic I'd hate to see what a whole magazine could do."

Fockewulf nodded. "Agreed, it's a rather intimidating weapon, lots of brute force went into this design, even if it's not the most elegant thing I've ever seen. You're lucky your shield was full, a shot like that would have gutted you had it hit the bodysuit. Although there is a chance that your armor might have stopped it. As of right now, I'm not entirely sure, I'd have to get the weapon and ammunition in hand before I could tell you its overall performance."

Warrick leaned in, examining the little spinning firearm. "What kind of enemies would you need, for warriors like this?" He wondered aloud.

Nobody in the Prowler really wanted to know the answer to that.

In the Governor's Palace…

Inquisitor Graves looked at the little lump of melted metal on the table in front of him. "Do you know what this is?" He asked Gaius, the Astartes and his team standing in the room.

"Some kind of xeno tech?" The marine deducted, leaning in to examine the destroyed little device.

Graves nodded. "Yes, it seems that it was the hololith device they left behind to distract you. It's surprising that such a small device was able to create totally lifelike image and sound, and even react to your words and actions." Graves looked up at the marine, noting his displeased expression. "You thought you were preserving the life of a good imperial subject, your actions were without fault my friend. We have all been perplexed by our mystery guests."

The Inquisitor activated his own hololith, a shaky image of the armored soldiers the team had fought flickering into life.

"The device itself seems to have had a self-destruct feature, we can gain little insight from it. As for the operation itself, while we failed to capture the infiltrators as we hoped. We did have our first direct contact with them and through that contact we have gained some measure of information about them. I have analyzed the recordings from your armor, but what can you tell me yourselves?"

The Ultramarine was the first to speak. "They were fast milord, extremely fast. They matched our pace in the chase through the halls. We were unable to catch up to them in the tight corridors."

"What can you tell me about their cloaking technology?" Graves asked, finding their ability to turn invisible seemingly at will being perhaps the most disturbing aspect to these strange soldiers.

"It seemed to have trouble when they moved quickly." Gaius said, looking thoughtful, "And physical impacts disrupted it. I was able to see a slight haze of movement as they passed, but when stationary they were all but undetectable."

Kartal grimaced a little. "I did not see either of them when they came in through the entryway. Even as they came back out I could barely detect them, and then it was only a brief instant of movement."

Graves rubbed his brow, this seeming depressingly like a worst case scenario. "Thankfully your quick thinking did expose a flaw with their system, we will have to exploit that in the future."

The Inquisitor changed the image, switching to Gaius' gun sight as he shot the intruder. The bolt exploded over his shoulder, the armor seeming to shimmer golden as it was hit. When the explosion faded the armor beneath was completely unharmed.

"This is another disturbing sight, that armor, slim as it may be, took a bolter to the back without so much as a scratch." He said, looking up to the marines.

"Some kind of shielding technology, like the Iron Halo?" Mendoza suggested.

"No, not a Halo," Xavier countered, "The profile was much different, as was the appearance of the shield itself. It is more likely that this is some form of technology we are not familiar with. I have yet to encounter or hear tell of a similar shielding device."

Graves interlaced his fingers, contemplating. "And then there were the weapons they used. Thoughts on those?" The Astartes had vastly superior military expertise than he did, so The Inquisitor deferred to their judgment on that.

"Some form of adhesive grenade that nearly blew my pauldron off." Gaius replied, clearly a little sore about that.

"When I studied your armor sir, I detected the signs of a plasma explosion. You're lucky that you still have a shoulder for your pauldron to be attached to." Xavier replied.

"Their main weapons were autoguns, nothing too threatening there." Ulrich cut in, "But that pistol he used against me, a fearsome little weapon even thought it did little damage to me. It locked my armors servos up so that I could barely move. I'd hate to go up against one of those again without some kind of protection."

Graves nodded, looking down at the fuzzy image projected onto the table. "I'll think of something, in the meantime we have a ship to hunt. It's unlikely the intruders will leave us alone after this, we need to find that ship."

"Milord, how far away is the Naval unit?" Gaius asked, his hands tightened to fists.

"Two days at last report. Though if the warp currents are in our favor, they could be here even sooner." Graves said. Whatever the origin of that strange ship, he would feel a lot better investigating it with an Emperor class battleship at his back.

Aboard the Wotan, almost a day later…

"So, they have their own supersoldiers." Captain Roberts mused, looking over the data before him. The Captain of The Wotan was currently in his ready room, examining the retrieved data from the intelligence gathering operation on the planet surface. The team responsible was also present, both Spartans were dressed down into their fatigues. Fockewulf had rejoined with his double residing in the Wotan's computer, the newly whole AI also present via hologram.

"Yes sir, with a rather different profile than ourselves." Warrick noted, looking down at the holo model of the Imperial in question. It was completely lifelike, but only a foot tall. "These things were intended for brute force attacks, and straight up heavy combat. There doesn't seem to be much room for subtlety there."

The Captain nodded. "So as long as we stick to the shadows we're in good shape then." He thought, picking through the cultural data next. "Though the idea of a fascist theocracy having access to such powerful frontline soldiers is distressing at best. Thankfully it seems their general infantry is nowhere near as well equipped."

"I would caution against such generalizations Captain." Fockewulf warned. "I saw several references in the material we scanned indicating that the military we saw was simply their planetary militia. Their more active military seems to be called the Imperial Guard, and while it seems to have a generally similar structure it is most likely far better equipped."

"I can buy that." Roberts said. He steepled his fingers, thinking for a moment. "So, the end result is that we cannot rely on the locals for aid, and are lost in space, with no help or support of any kind. What's worse is that we have no idea how to get home. The locals would probably burn us at the stake rather than give aid to someone they might consider to be heretics, especially if they learn of our friendly relations with the alien species currently aboard. If captured our people can look forward to imprisonment and likely torture for information, or simply on religious grounds. Have I left anything out?"

The Spartans exchanged glances. "No sir, I think that's the general feel of the situation." Shadow commented, the AI nodding morosely.

Roberts considered for a long moment, thinking on his next move. It was inevitable that they would have to leave this system, the locals were only going to get more hostile the longer they stayed. However without a clear plan of action to lead them forward they were bumbling blindly. He tapped his desk for a moment, weighing his options.

"Gentlemen." He said when he had considered. "What we need is supplies, and a more open source of information**. S**omewhere that isn't completely locked down. This planet seems to be a trade hub of some sort, if we can find a system that traded with this one and get there, we might be able to beat news of our arrival. It seems information travels slowly between planets in this Imperium, if it travels at all."

The captain turned, directing his gaze directly at the armored A.I.

"Fockewulf, get into the planets systems and find me a destination, a reasonably sized trade center we can get to, I'm sure there's something aboard we could trade for food and supplies."

The AI nodded. "Right sir, but this could take me some time. The locals computer systems are remarkably primitive in a lot of ways, but in some ways quite advanced as well. It will take me time just to find the right thing to hack into, let alone get used to the operating system and access the data."

"I have the utmost faith in you, get to it." Roberts said. The AI saluted and winked out, getting to work on the search. "As for you two, get yourselves some R&R, you earned it." The Spartans rose, walking to the door after saluting. Just before they got there though, the AI appeared again.

"Sorry to intrude Captain, but proximity alert. It seems one of the local patrol boats is moving near us. At this range we could be detected, I advise caution."

Roberts nodded before calling the helm. "Move us away from that Imperial ship, nice and easy." He said, hoping this would work out. He just had to get out of this system without a fight.

Hopefully it would be a while before any major reinforcements arrived.

In the Inquisitor's office…

"Excellent news Inquisitor!" The adept from the Astropathic sanctum said, "It seems the Naval task force will be here within hours, the warp currents are very favorable."

Gaius grinned, it would be good to witness the holy fury of the Imperial Navy wreaking havoc on the intruder ship.

"Very good, thank you adept." The Inquisitor responded, dismissing the robed man with a wave. Once he had gone, Graves turned to Gaius. "Well, I think we are needed in orbit my friend. I would hate for you to miss the boarding action once the Navy disables that ship."

"We do what we must to server the Emperor." Gaius said with a smile, falling in beside the Inquisitor as they walked to the landing pad. The rest of his team boarded the Aquila**, which** took them back up to the Holy Reckoning. Once aboard they proceeded to the bridge, a crewman handing the Inquisitor a report.

"Sir, one of the SDF boats reports a contact on the edge of the system. They are monitoring some kind of transmission being sent from a point in space to the planet. What's more, we don't have any registered ships are in that area."

The Inquisitor smiled like a wolf who had just caught the scent of prey. "Set intercept course and watch for the Naval unit, they should be here by the time we arrive in the area. I want SDF boats to converge on that contact from all sides, box them in." He ordered, the vox operator rushing to comply.

What followed was far too long and tedious for Gaius to find it exciting, despite the dangerous situation. They were going up against a large warship of unknown capability, but there was nothing he could do until they were able to board it. So he simply stood upon the bridge of the 'Reckoning and absorbed the information coming from the various displays and readouts.

It seemed that the SDF was closing the noose on their mystery ship, surrounding it from all sides. Perhaps the ship was unaware how it was being tracked?

Whatever the reason, they continued to slowly close in, a couple hours ticking by in what could best be described as tense boredom as they waited for something to happen. Finally something did when the auspex operator turned to face them.

"Sirs, warp signatures detected, the Navy has arrived."

On the bridge of the Wotan…

Captain Roberts had been doing a tense dance for the past two hours. Sensor contacts kept popping up at the edges of their passive scanning range, he didn't dare let out an active scan pulse. It would be like sending up a flare, letting the Imperials know exactly where the Wotan was hiding. So instead he had to listen for them, for the glow of their engines and the chatter of their coms. They had slowly been encircling his ship, the Wotan moving slowly, practically drifting to avoid showing its position, its engines cold and shut down to preserve stealth.

"Fockewulf, progress report?" He asked.

The AI shook his head, "Still looking sir, none of these computer systems are really networked, there's simply not that many paths I can move across. I'm working as fast as I can. This system is so primitive in ways it's probing really hard for me to hack."

The Captain gripped his chair as he watched the ships on the monitor getting closer and closer. He needed to move, but he couldn't make a blind jump. If he activated the Slipspace drive to get across the system and evade these ships now it would only forestall the problem, their exit point would be detected by even the most simple of scanners, the Wotan was not a terribly stealthy ship, especially when people were hunting it. On top of that, any use of the Slipspace engines would need to be recharged, they couldn't simply jump around without stopping to rest between uses.

"Sir, we've got an anomaly forming, roughly two thousand kilometers out!" the sensor officer reported, "I'm detecting large amounts of exotic radiation and… sir, ship contacts, much bigger than the craft we've seen so far."

"Visual!" Roberts barked, looking to the holodisplay. A full color image of… something came up on the display. It looked like a purplish-red tear in space, a gaping wound bleeding exotic radiation into realspace. Out of that rip clawed a ship, a massive ship, as well as several smaller warships. A three dimensional image of each type flashed up on the display.

"Sir, that primary contact is roughly twenty five kilometers long, I'm seeing heavy armor and gun ports." The sensor op reported. There was a fair bit more than that, the huge battleship was encrusted with the same statuary and devotional imagery he had come to expect from Imperial designs. Despite the decoration he had no doubts at all that the ship he faced as a deadly opponent and deserved to be taken very seriously. There were also half a dozen smaller, frigate class escort ships. Roberts considered deploying the Wotan's own frigates, the five smaller ships attached to the hull. Unfortunately, those ships lacked Slipspace drives, so they couldn't follow along without the Wotan to tow them. He decided not to, another time.

"No sense in playing it subtle now, they've got us locked in." He said, the new ships already heading in their direction. "Engines and shields to full, bring weapons and active scanners online, I want targeting data on that ship, tell me when they're in range." He ordered. He didn't want to destroy those ships, that would cause too many problems in the long run, but if he could dissuade them with a little weapons fire all the better.

The Imperial ships were bearing hard down on them, targeting them with long range sensors, the battleship's huge bow guns trained forward. The Wotan had the strongest shields and toughest armor of any ship ever built by the UNSC, but he didn't want to spend too long getting pounded by those cannons. Of course the Wotan itself was hardly helpless in direct combat, far from it. The ship mounted the most powerful primary armament any human ship had thus far deployed. Inheriting a lot of plasma technology from the Covenant, the UNSC chose to utilize their plasma weapons far differently from their old enemies.

Rather than place weapons sites around the entire ship and fire torpedoes or beams, the UNSC used plasma in the same way it had used MAC guns, one huge cannon at the front of the ship. The nature of the weapon meant that it could fire in a roughly thirty degree arc in the front of the ship, projecting a huge beam of plasma for as long as the operator wished, or until the plasma reserves needed to be recharged. Of course this restricted the plasma gun to firing at targets in front of the Wotan, but it also mounted a number of MAC and pulse laser arrays around the rest of the ship, meaning that the Wotan was bristling in firepower no matter what angle you came at it from.

"No sense in playing it subtle now, they've got us locked in." He said, the new ships already heading in their direction. "Sound general quarters, all hands. Engines and shields to full, bring weapons and active scanners online, I want targeting data on that ship, tell me when they're in range." He ordered. He didn't want to destroy those ships, that would cause too many problems in the long run, but if he could dissuade them with a little weapons fire all the better.

The Imperial ships were bearing hard down on them, targeting them with long range sensors, the battleship's huge bow guns trained forward. The Wotan had the strongest shields and toughest armor of any ship ever built by the UNSC, but he didn't want to spend too long getting pounded by those cannons. Of course the Wotan itself was hardly helpless in direct combat, far from it. The ship mounted the most powerful primary armament any human ship had thus far deployed. Inheriting a lot of plasma technology from the Covenant, the UNSC chose to utilize their plasma weapons far differently from their old enemies.

Rather than place weapons sites around the entire ship and fire torpedoes or beams, the UNSC used plasma in the same way it had used MAC guns, one huge cannon at the front of the ship. The nature of the weapon meant that it could fire in a roughly thirty degree arc in the front of the ship, projecting a huge beam of plasma for as long as the operator wished, or until the plasma reserves needed to be recharged. Of course this restricted the plasma gun to firing at targets in front of the Wotan, but it also mounted a number of MAC and pulse laser arrays around the rest of the ship, meaning that the Wotan was bristling in firepower no matter what angle you came at it from. He hoped he wouldn't have to bring the full brunt of his firepower to bear, not in this fight at least.

"Sir, they're firing." The sensor op reported, "Canon slug, intercepting."

Roberts watched as one of the rear pulse laser arrays fired on the incoming warhead, the shell detonating harmlessly a good distance behind them. "They're not terrible shots." He remarked, that shell had been reasonably well targeted, but only one didn't have any real hope of hitting them at that range. "Answer them in kind."

"Aye." His weapons operator confirmed, working at his station. "Rear MAC turret hot, firing one round, target on the battleship."

The small icon indicating the slug traveled across space on a dead straight course for the enemy ship. "No interception, no attempt to evade, impact." The slug slammed into the prow of the battleship, the sensor operator reporting in.

"Direct hit, no sign of damage, that ship is shielded sir."

Roberts gripped his armrest a little, and then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "They're just full of surprises, aren't they?" He mused, not really having expected them to have energy shields, or weapons that could target accurately at this range.

"Sir, they're firing again, major salvo!" The sensor op reported urgently. The scanners clearly indicated numerous projectiles speeding across the void of space towards the Wotan.

"Intercept and evade!" Roberts ordered, the huge ship slowly turning to avoid to barrage, pulse lasers firing in intervals. It seemed a number of the projectiles were torpedoes rather than cannon rounds, the massive missiles clawing across space to get at them. The lasers safely detonated a good number of them, but their armor was thick and a few made it through, detonating on the shields.

"Sir, aft shields down to 73%." The shield operator reported, Roberts grimacing.

"Fockewulf, how long? We can't dance with them forever."

"I'm not sure sir, I think I'm in the right system now but it's strange in here… this computer hasn't been defragged in about three hundred years and it feels like there's something else in the system with me."

Roberts tapped his arm rest, "Another AI?"

"Not sure, but the system seems to be actively resisting me, this shouldn't be taking as long as it is, I'll have you the data as quickly as possible sir, I don't like getting shot at either."

Roberts nodded, considering his options. They could continue to run, and take more and more hits to the rear shields until they were gutted, or they could make a fight of it. In the end, there really was no choice. "Helm, bring us about, direct intercept course with the Imperial battleship, bring the main gun online and give me a targeting solution, we'll see how they like getting kicked in the teeth!"

Aboard the Holy Reckoning…

"Not bad." Graves said, watching the battle from afar via his ships sensor systems. The intruder ship had just taken a salvo from an Emperor class battleships bow mounted weaponry, managing to intercept most of it and take the remaining hits without going down, or seeming to take damage at all.

"I'd love to get my hand on the shielding tech that ship is using." Magos Edriton said, his hands grasping at empty air and his mechadendrites twitching as he anticipated ripping the xenotech apart and seeing what was inside.

"All in good time Magos." Gaius said, staring unblinkingly at the tactical readout. "Hmm, they're turning." He observed, the long ship rotating in space to face back towards the pursuing ship. Then the sensor reading flared, the chatter from the battleship increasing greatly.

"What just happened?" Graves demanded into his vox headset.

A few moments later the captain of the battleship responded. "They fired their bow guns at us, not entirely sure what they hit us with, some form of energy weapon. Our void shields are still up but they took a bad hit, I'm surprised they can fire at that range."

Graves nodded grimly, an energy weapon with that kind of range boded ill indeed. "Are you still in the fight captain?"

"Please! It will take more than that to take one of the Emperor's holy warships out of battle, fire again!" He shouted, obviously ordering his bridge crew to engage, "And launch attack craft, I want that ship encircled and ready for boarding, the Inquisitor wants prisoners!"

The battleship fired another full salvo from its bow guns, then started to veer off course. Graves realized the captain was setting himself up for a broadside as he angled the side of his vessel towards the oncoming ship. The salvo raced across space, more pulses of what looked to be lances of some form arcing out to meet them, the remaining projectiles and torpedoes slamming into the enemy craft's shields. Unfortunately they didn't know enough about the enemy shields to tell whether they were really hurting or not from the blows.

Graves drummed his fingers on the side of the hololith, watching the battle unfold in the void before them, ships from all sides closing in on the intruder.

On the Wotan's bridge…

"Fore shields down to sixty percent, aft shields recharging." The shield tech reported.

"I've almost got the data we need captain, just a little longer. I'm getting into the databanks now, just give me a minute to comb through this data and find what we need. I've gotten through the security but this system is still fighting me somehow, I don't understand it."

Not really in the mood to listen to the AI talk about what didn't make sense, Roberts turned back to his bridge crew. "Alright, they're not going to make this easy for us. Give them another shot of the main gun, full power this time. And open up with the MACs and lasers as well, time to show them we mean business."

The weapons officer nodded, working his console again. In a moment a brilliant, scintillating beam of plasma speared from the Wotan's prow, arcing across space in a moment to slam into the side of the Imperial battleship. At the same time numerous MAC turrets and laser projectors came to life, sending slugs and beams of deadly light screaming across the void towards the battleship and her escorts.

"I'm seeing power fluctuations on the enemy battleship, sir they're shields are down!" The sensor operator announced. The plasma beam cut into the ship, leaving a long glowing scar in the ships thick armor before the weapon gave out, having expended its supply of plasma for the moment, it would have to recharge before they could fire again. Hopefully that display would buy them a little time.

"What are they doing…" Roberts mused. The battleship had broken off, moving almost on a parallel trajectory now, rapidly turning away. "Didn't expect them to turn tail so fast, especially with how dogmatic they are." Then he noticed how the ship was rotating about its axis, facing the opposite side towards them, which still had its shields up. His heart beat faster when he realized what was about to happen. "Evasive now! They're going for a broadside!"

The enemy ship lit up as its side guns fired in a massive volley arcing across space. The Wotan answered a moment later, every MAC it could bring to bear firing on intercept trajectories as well as pulse lasers arcing out. Interceptor missiles fired as well, the two salvos crashing together between the ships. Even with the interception systems working a large number of projectiles got through, smashing into the Wotan's hull shields. Lights on the bridge flickered as shield warnings blared. "Captain, shields down to thirty percent in affected areas!" One of the techs reported.

"Fockewulf!" Roberts shouted, the Wotan now firing all possible weapons against the enemy battleship, hammering its shields once more.

"I've almost… Got it! Local star charts acquired, plotting course now."

"Just get us out of here, Cole Protocol random jump, I don't want them following us!"

"Bringing the drives on now sir. Jumping in three, two, one, jump!" The blue swirling maw of slipspace opened before the Wotan, the ship flaring its engines and passing into the space between spaces just as another broadside salvo ripped through the space where they had been a moment before. Captain Roberts leaned back in his chair and breathed a deep sigh, looking over damage reports from various sections of the ship. Thankfully the shields had held out long enough, but another broadside would have certainly bitten into the hull. There would be a few repairs to be made but it seemed the Wotan was in much better condition than he'd feared.

The great ship sailed on through the twisting nether of slipspace, on course towards another Imperial world, hoping against hope to find the supplies they needed there, and begin the long journey home.

Aboard the Holy Reckoning...

"Damn!" Graves burst angrily, punching the console before him. The ship had escaped him, and this time it was totally beyond his grasp, already heading off to some other corner of the galaxy to plague the Imperium.

"I want that signal we intercepted analyzed immediately Magos, I want to know what they were doing with that transmission." He ordered, "And plot potential destinations based on their jump, we need to know where they're headed next!"

He spared a glance to Gaius, who looked just as aggravated as he was, the Astartes staring out the viewport to the distant spot where the enemy ship had been, his hands clenched into fists. Graves stepped outside the bridge, not wanting to be in there anymore, the tensions were too high and nothing was to be gained by allowing himself to become overly angry. He reached into his vest, clenching his hand around the small Aquila that hung there. "Emperor give me strength, that I might serve you better. Grant me the patience to see this task through, and the vision to find your foes." He prayed. A moment later he released the icon, breathing deep, calming breaths. He walked briskly to his quarters, quickly drafting orders for a few individuals on the planet and in the naval task force. He would hang onto the ships for now, he didn't know when he would need them again and he didn't want to fight that ship without aid.

So Inquisitor Graves set about beginning what was sure to be the long, harrowing process of tracking down his mystery ship. The image of that vessel burned in his mind, presenting so many unanswerable questions, but promising so many answers. If only he could get his hands on it. He would, one way or another he would. The God Emperor was watching over him, after all.

Author's Note. Terribly sorry for the wait, things got a bit busy here and I got pulled away writing for a bit. Rest assured that I still love this story and am happy to write it for you. Leave a review if you think it's warranted, getting feedback from my readers is one of the true joys of writing here. Also to everyone who has reviewed so far, thank you very much. I promise that I read each and every review, so don't think that you're going to be ignored. Thanks again, I'll try to have the next chapter out without so much of a wait this time.


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